Blood-Soaked Hands

Days had passed, and the tension could be cut in the air. The Ghost and Richardson had been at odds, but things got heated when the Ghost was asked appear before the Panel after refusing to stand down and comply with their demands.

"Mr. Ghost.."

"That's The Ghost to you."

"Look, you need to stand down, we all have an order around here and we all would like you to accept this."

"Allow me to say this, I'll stand down ONLY when your strongest can knock me down and keep me down."

One of the members motions for a soldier to step up, however, The Ghost doesn't let him enter the ring, slitting the soldiers throat with his Kbar, blood splatting all over him. The Panel all stand up horrified by this, the Ghost starts laughing.

"What hope have you if your best can even anticipate my next move?"

He proceeds to another four guards and then stab on of the panel members.

"You fucked with the wrong guy, now get the fuck out of my face."

The Ghost walks down the long hallway passing Richardson as he leaves the building. Back at the Arsenal, the troops had been up training readying for their next battle. They had orders to be ready at a moment's notice for anything.

"Ghost, what do you hope to accomplish, I could just nuke Washington D.C, then kill everyone here."

"Try it, see how far you get."

"Maybe I will."

Richardson reaches into his pocket only to be thrown off balance by the Ghost hold a blade to his throat.

"I have a new idea, you and your army versus mine, sundown, city center."

"I hope you brought more troops, the ones from last time, won't cut it."

"We shall see."

The two men separate and prepare for war.

"LISTEN UP! TONIGHT...WE GO TO WAR!"

The Ghost raised his fist into the air and it was met with cheers from the Remnants. The Ghost turned to face his old allies.

"When I win, get out of this city."

"If you win."

"When. I won't lose."

"You'd better not."