Outside, Nomad crouched in the tall grass, his thermal optics locked on the guard tower. "We have a breach," he whispered into his comms. "But not the physical kind." "Explain, Boss," Holt crackled back.

In the world of the Ghosts, some things are meant to be earned, not downloaded.

"Midas, sync shot on the terminal," Nomad ordered. "We aren't letting this data go live."

dotted_texture