Behind him, the air shimmered. Ghost Lead didn’t walk into view; he materialized as his deactivated. The active-camo suit transitioned from the muddy brown of the brick wall to the matte grey of his tactical vest in a fraction of a second. "Synchronize shots," Ghost Lead commanded.
The rain in Peshawar didn’t just fall; it clung to the skin like oil. Sergeant John Kozak adjusted his Cross-Com, the blue-tinted HUD flickering to life inside his goggles. FiИ™ier: Tom.Clancys.Ghost.Recon.Future.Soldier....
Four suppressed shots hissed through the humid air simultaneously. The guards collapsed before they could even reach for their radios. Behind him, the air shimmered