"Ghosts" they called us. Hiding among the bodies of the dead, popping out like supernatural creatures, that whole superstitious bullshit. As epic and awesome as that sounds, it couldn't be farther from the truth. Our origins, and our present, is the biggest shit show I could ever think of in my life period.
Us "ghosts" were formed on accident, lots of dead, a lot of blood, and they just told us to keep doing what we do, namely go behind the enemy and stab'em in the back until none are left. Mercy wasn't exactly recommended in this line of work. If you wanted in, though I really doubt you'd have any choice, you'd have to get used to producing some nightmarish sights.
As you could probably tell, I'm not here to tell a badass epic story of our exploits. To be completely honest, we weren't the lucky ones. The lucky ones get remembered as heroes, mysterious spec ops heroes. Us? We're the ones who accepted death the moment we got in. Before I forget, the name's Nick, I'll tell you the story of how me and my dull partner became the unluckiest motherfuckers in just one night.
After flying so many missions, injecting ourselves into hostile territory you'd think we'd get used to it by now, but to be honest, I don't think anyone could get used to flying in the dark, can't see shit anywhere. The point is to blend in but hell wearing all black even with night vision, I'd be surprised if I can properly see within a few feet away from me.
From that cheery thought, I already knew that tonight was gonna be especially shitty, but then again, as "ghosts" we pretty much expect to die until we actually go back home. While I was on one side of the chopper trying to get my bearings, Kyle, my partner, was fast asleep like a damn baby. How that fucker can fall asleep with noise like this, I have no idea. We've flown a bunch of missions together and the guy always starts it off sleeping.
I don't know why they always pair us up together, especially on boring clean up operations. Not like we haven't trained for this shit every fucking day. Honestly I just think the higher ups hate me so much that they thought that Kyle would be a balance to my extremely charming personality.
Our mission was to clear out a terrorist stronghold of any hostile for the main army to occupy, and, as much as possible, leave them guessing on who did it. We weren't called "ghosts" for nothing after all. They told us something else to look out for while we're there but can't really remember. I'm only ordered to shoot and kill, and occasionally mame, not to pay attention.
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As I sat waiting and staring into the dark, our pilot told us our drop point was only a few clicks away. I checked my equipment, pulled down my nods, and readied myself to drop. I turned to check Kyle and the guy was still fast asleep. You have got to be shitting me.
"Wake the fuck up, sleeping beauty!" I yelled and kicked the guy. The bastard woke up as if I was his alarm clock and reacted like a normal person out of sleep. "We're just a few clicks away from drop, get your shit together." I said crassly.
He didn't seem to be fazed by my urgency, to be honest, he didn't look like he’s even capable of reacting. He slowly checked his shit. He brought a huge sniper rifle for cover during the operation and his side arm had been a custom USP .45, silencer and extended mag. This guy was equipped for long ranged combat. Great, I guess I'm on my own to get up close and personal with bastards.
"Come on man, put some hustle into our missions, can't have you sleeping while I'm busting my ass out there" he finished checking his equipment and gave me a blank expression with his eyes. "Let me be sleepy, and I let you be an overgrown child, sounds good?" Oh this smartass really wants to get his ass beaten.
"Besides it's good to get some shut eye, we've been flying for an hour since 1100 on the dot." he says looking out to his side of the chopper. "Whatever, man" I responded. "Why'd you even agree to go on this Op, you could've just slept back at base." I asked him. "Command said it was urgent, I just do what I'm told." he plainly said. "Besides I have nothin better to do."
He's got a point there, when we're back at base our unit would usually just keep to themselves, the rest of the grunts don't even know who the hell we are, some of them think we're just a bunch of assholes in the army who made their own clique, and he says I'm the overgrown child.
Coms turned on and the pilot started to talk. "We'll be dropping soon, remember you boys still got a ways to walk to the stronghold since I can't land near the place without getting some unwanted attention." "From here on out, as per usual, you're on your own. You will get no support from anyone."
"My heart aches from the loss of your support." I snarky replied, at the annoyance of the pilot. "Radio silence is integral to mission success and-" "Yeah we get the drill, we don't need a refresher." I impatiently said. The pilot let out a sigh of frustration.
"We're here, travel 4 more clicks north and you should see the stronghold. Whatever you guys do from here is your business, good luck." We both dropped from the chopper and watched as it left to the direction we came from.
"Let's get to work." Kyle said. "Finally." I responded. We knew exactly what we were getting into the moment we joined the ghosts. We knew that we were risking our lives more than most in the army would, and we were fine with that. What we weren't expecting was that this not was about to get a whole lot worse.