The dimly lit operations room at the Pentagon, the headquarters building of the United
States Department of Defense hummed with activity. Screens displayed real-time
satellite images and a team of analysts busily monitored various feeds. At the center of
it all stood Defense Secretary Xavier Reed, his eyes never leaving the primary monitor.
"Are we sure about this intel?" Reed asked, and his voice remained firm but carried the
weight of what was happening.
An analyst looked up from his station. "Yes, sir. Israeli intelligence confirmed it. They got
it from Musahed, who received it from an ISI agent embedded within Al-Qaeda."
Reed nodded. "Are we sure this is the ghost?"
"Yes, sir, this is the only information we got on him after a long time," the analyst replied.
"He's completely off the grid. No records, no trace. No government or intelligence
agency worldwide has any data on him, not even the U.S., Europe, NATO, or Israel."
Reed's brow furrowed. "Ghost? Let's hope his information is as solid as they claim. Pull
up the information of soldiers stationed nearby.”
With the information on soldiers displayed on the screen, Reed’s eyes struck one
person.
Six feet, two inches, his broad shoulders, and his chiseled jawline give him an air of
authority. His steely blue eyes were a testament to his years of rigorous training and
countless missions. As a Navy SEAL and a member of the elite Delta Force, he was
considered the best of the best, the epitome of a commando.
Nathan

Stationed at a remote outpost in Afghanistan, Nathan and his team were catching a few
hours of much-needed sleep. The night was calm; the only sounds were the occasional
hoot of an owl and the distant rustling of the desert wind.
Suddenly, Nathan’s secure transmitter buzzed a sharp sound that cut through the
silence. Instantly alert, he reached for the device and activated it. "This is Nathan."
The voice on the other end was unmistakable. "Nathan, this is Defense Secretary Reed.
We have an urgent mission. Assemble a team of your best commandos, ten to twelve
men. I will Roger with the details in five."
Nathan didn't hesitate. "Understood, sir. We're on it."
The buzz and Nathan's voice had already awakened his men, who turned to him.
movement. "Alright, listen up!" he barked, his voice commanding attention. "We've got
new orders. Top-tier mission. Gear up; we're leaving in five."
The commandos sprang into action, their movements precise and efficient. Nathan's
second-in-command, a wiry man named Rodriguez, approached him as he strapped on
his gear.
"What’s the intel, boss?" Rodriguez asked, his dark eyes reflecting the seriousness of
the situation.
"The message came straight from the Pentagon," Nathan replied. "Reed himself. We're
assembling our best and heading south."
Rodriguez nodded, understanding the gravity. "Any details?"
"Not much," Nathan said, checking his equipment. "Just that it's an urgent and top
priority. We're moving in five. Make sure everyone’s ready."

Nathan's secure transmitter buzzed again, and he quickly picked it up. "This is Nathan,"
he said, his voice steady.
"Defense Secretary Reed here," came the voice from the other end. "Nathan, we have a
critical target for this mission. An individual known as Ghost."
Nathan's eyebrows knitted together. "Ghost? I've heard rumors, but nothing concrete.
What's the intel?"
"Ghost is highly elusive," Reed explained, his tone grave. "Unknown to any government
or intelligence agency worldwide, including the U.S., Europe, NATO, and Israel. We
have reason to believe he's spending the night in a safe house thirty miles south of
Kandahar."
Nathan listened intently. "Understood. What's the objective?"
"Your mission is to locate Ghost and capture him, dead or alive," Reed said,
emphasizing the last words. "His intelligence value is off the charts. We need him,
Nathan. Whatever it takes."
Nathan nodded, even though Reed couldn't see him. "We'll get it done, sir. You can
count on us."
Nathan turned to his team, who were busily preparing their gear. "Listen up, everyone!"
he called out, drawing their attention. "We've got a high-value target for this mission. An
individual known as Ghost."
Rodriguez looked up from his equipment. "Ghost? That shadowy figure we keep hearing
about?"
"That's the one," Nathan confirmed and repeated what he heard from Reed. "Ghost is
unknown to any government or intelligence agency worldwide, including the U.S.,
Europe, NATO, and Israel. We've got intel that he's spending the night in a house thirty
miles south of Kandahar."
Cooper, the burly sergeant, tightened the strap on his helmet. "What's the objective boss?"
"We need to capture Ghost, dead or alive," Nathan said firmly. "His intelligence value is
critical. This comes straight from Defense Secretary Reed himself. We're moving out in
five. Stay sharp, and be ready for anything."
The team quickly fell into their final preparations, their movements synchronized and
efficient. Nathan felt a surge of pride as he watched them. "Alright, team, gather up!" he
commanded.
The commandos formed a tight circle, their expressions serious but determined. Nathan
put his hand in the center, and the others followed suit. "On three," he said. "One, two,
three!"
"Hooyah!" they shouted in unison.
With their chant still ringing in their ears, Nathan led the way as they headed south
towards Kandahar, their mission clear and their resolve unbreakable. In the Pentagon,
Reed watched the small blips on the screen representing Nathan and his team, hoping
that they would succeed in capturing the elusive ghost.

The night sky over Kandahar was unusually clear, with the bright moon casting an eerie
glow over the village. The air was still, save for the occasional distant bark of a dog.
Kandahar was a small village with about forty to fifty mud houses, their earthy tones
blending seamlessly with the desert landscape. At the far end of the village stood a
particular house, isolated and seemingly unremarkable.
Following the precise directions, Nathan and his team moved covertly through the shadows.
coordinates provided by the American spy satellite, Black Eye. The moonlight
illuminated their path, casting long, stark shadows on the ground. The commandos'
movements were silent, their training allowing them to blend into the night.
They approached the target house with practiced caution; their senses heightened.
Nathan signaled for them to halt just outside the compound. He scanned the area,
noting the L-shaped veranda and the multiple doors leading to different rooms.
"Stay sharp," he whispered to his team. "We're going in."
As they entered the compound, a sudden movement caught Nathan's eye. There was a
sharp thud, causing everyone to be tense. Nathan gestured for silence and edged
closer to the source of the sound.
Before they could react, one of the doors burst open. An elderly man, tall and gaunt with
a long white beard, emerged. His eyes were wide with fear, and he sprinted down the
veranda, shouting urgent warnings in Pashto.
"Stop him!" Nathan ordered.
Rodriguez and Cooper moved quickly, their rifles trained on the man. "Halt!" Rodriguez
shouted in Pashto, hoping to get through to him.
But the elderly man continued his frantic sprint, his voice rising in desperation. "They're
here! They're here!" he cried, his words echoing through the night.
The old man banged desperately on a particular door, his cries growing more frantic.
"They're here! They're here!" he shouted, his voice cracking with fear. Nathan knew they
couldn't risk him alerting anyone else.
"Take him down," Nathan ordered, his voice cold and resolute.
Rodriguez and Cooper raised their rifles. A deafening crack split the night as they fired,
the old man collapsing to the ground. He fell slowly, his eyes wide with shock, his life
ebbing away as he crumpled into a heap.
"He's done," Rodriguez confirmed, checking the man's still form.
Nathan's eyes were hard. "Ghost must be inside. We can't take any chances. Shoot the
house."
"But sir," Cooper hesitated, "what if we—"
"No time for what-ifs," Nathan cut him off. "Take it down. Now."