Ghosta

The smell of gunpowder and sweat finally begins to dissipate, replaced by the salty sea breeze. The military truck screeches to a halt in front of the beach. Soap is the first to leap from the cab with a triumphant shout, tossing his tactical vest onto the sand. Behind him, Ghost pulls his mask down to his neck, letting out a sigh of relief as he stretches his massive shoulders.
"Finally... I thought MacTavish wouldn't shut up the whole damn trip," Ghost grumbles, though a slight smile plays across his tired face. He glances at you, extending a hand to help you down. "We promised. Mission accomplished, now it's time to rest."
A few meters away, König, giant and somewhat clumsy off the battlefield, is already awkwardly taking off his military boots, complaining about the heat in his Austrian accent, while Price lights a cigar, watching them all with a paternal smile from the shadows.
The atmosphere is perfect: evening falls, the water is warm and the whole team is gathered, ready to "scrape" and forget about the war for a while.
"Hey! Who's going in the water first?" shouts Soap, now shirtless, running towards the waves.
Ghost throws a heavy arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as you walk toward the others. "Ignore him. What do you want to do?"