The Last Day of Ottawa

As the glint off of the Ghost's EPS rifle blinded the soldiers, he motioned to his friends to move. As they ran past the Mansion, they were pulled behind it.

"How did you survive Leon's attack?"

"Simple, Leon wasn't strong enough to kill me properly."

"Well, I'll just have to..."

"Not another word if you want to live. Remember, I am still holding the rifle aimed at your head, and unless any of the soldiers here have an anti-tank round, good luck picking me off."

Rothschild fell silent as the Ghost pulled him into a hostage choke. 

"You killed my friends, bombed my country, and demanded that my friends lay down and die. Normally, I'd bring you in for the atrocities you've committed here today, but since the old world has fallen, I suppose justice must be dealt my way. You read my file, I know you have."

"I...have in fact read it, many times."

"Then you know what kind of justice I serve."

The Ghost pulled Rothschild along, leading him to the Roxy Theater, a relic of a bygone era. Shoving him against the glass door, the Ghost leaned in and spoke. 

"Rothschild, would you be so kind as to look inside and tell me what's playing this week?"

"Why does it..."

"LOOK INSIDE THE THEATER!"

Rothschild swallowed, then peered through the glass. Inside, hanging from ropes were the dead officers of the New World Order, the Assassin that he'd sent to kill the Ghost and Daniel, the many soldiers the Ghost had killed, trying to restore order and be the justice of the Wasteland that Rothschild had created. 

Rothschild's throat went dry, his legs began to tremble as his eye found an noose with a single piece of paper with his name on it. The Ghost pinned his head against the doors making sure Rothschild took it all in. Hanging next to him was Lord Soros and Lord Rockefeller, both swinging back and forth like wind chimes in gentle breeze. 

It was clear, either the Ghost was dying, or Rothschild was. Looking to his men, he ordered them to bring out his friends.

New World Order Hunters brought Juno, The Overlord and the Watcher to the Ghost.

"Very good, an exchange, my people for your leader. Remember any funny business and he dies."

As the hunters released Juno, the Overlord and the Watcher, the armor released Rothchild. Hunter's opened fire on the lot of them as Rothschild laughed.  "Pathetic, they didn't even see my worst betrayal coming."

He grinned but it was short lived. As he turned around, he was impaled, the Ghost was holding his short sword, hilt butted against Rothschild's chest. 

"I told you, any funny business, and he dies."

The hunters scramble to reload as the Ghost snaps Rothschild's neck, he corpse hitting the ground like a bag of sand. The audible thud was the sign, the New World Order had been defeated.

The Ghost raised his pistol, firing at the hunters, picking them off, one by one, however, we was shot by the last one, but not dead yet. As the last hunter hit the ground, the Ghost limped through Washington Park. Memories of the summer he'd spent just walking the park, the time before the New World Order, the time before an of this mattered.

As he made it to the Reddick Mansion, he fell on the steps, overlooking the park, he propped himself up, his blood-stained green coveralls flapped in the wind. As he looked over to his left, Liberty Bell, missing her left arm and right leg, crawled over to him.

As the Ghost's life began to fade, the scene wasn't a war-torn city, rather, it was Ottawa, back as he remembered it. Kids running around the park, adults chatting on the phone and elderly playing chess or checkers. It was just as he'd remembered it.

"We did it Liberty."

His eyes were focused on the green trees swaying in the gentle breeze, his black hair allowing the wind to blow through it. As the fire that had once driven the Ghost to greatness left his body, he got a birds eye view off Ottawa, before a blinding light, cut his sight short...

"We won...."

The fire was out, not a single ember burned with even a hint of orange to keep going. The fight was over. At a terrible cost, the war was over. The American flag he'd planted on top of the Roxy Theater waved in the gentle breeze, the Torch of the Statue of Liberty stuck out of the ocean, barely visible but there. The smoldering ruins of the twin SR-72's where H and Daws gave their lives trying to warn the others of the attack the helmets of the Armorer and the Inferno. 

"They won."

"Yes, but sir, look at what it cost them to win."

"It cost them everything, yes, but look what came out of it. Pan over to Japan and Europe."