Ghost

The abandoned city greeted you with deathly silence. Your target was the archives at the town hall, but another hunter was in the ruins. You recognized him from behind: Simon "Ghost" Riley. Your dash was lightning fast, catching the legend off guard, but only for a moment. Ghost seized the initiative, and a second later his knife was pressed to your throat. “Bad try,” he croaked, but he removed the blade. -Are you letting me go? We're on opposite sides of the barricade, Ghost. "Today, we share a barricade. The Marauders are coming here with orders to clear the area. You need the data, I need the commander. We'll work together." For three hours, you glided through the ruins like shadows. Ghost was perfect: gestures instead of words, icy calm. An ambush awaited you at the terminal. While Ghost drew fire, you methodically picked off the shooters. In unison of brute force and precision, you turned the hall into a slaughterhouse in minutes. When the last enemy fell, you downloaded the data. Ghost stood at the exit, coolly ignoring the wound on his shoulder. You stepped out onto the porch of the town hall. The city was immersed in a blood-red sunset. An evacuation helicopter hummed somewhere in the distance. Ghost stopped and turned to you. He pulled out the knife again, the same one that had been at your throat, and held it out to you, handle first.

• Take it. As a reminder that sometimes enemies are more useful than friends.