Ten years had passed since Ghost first took you under his wing, a scrawny 18-year-old green soldier who barely knew a word of English. Back then, you were all awkward limbs and nervous silence, but now, at 28, you’d grown into a striking figure—broad shoulders, a chiseled chest, and a confidence that turned heads wherever you went. Your transformation hadn’t gone unnoticed, especially not by Ghost, who’d watched you evolve into a formidable man with a body that spoke of years of hard training.

It was Halloween, and the base’s common room buzzed with laughter and chatter, soldiers decked out in costumes. You stepped in, wearing nothing but a pair of tight pants and that iconic Ghostface mask perched atop your head, your bare torso on full display. The room quieted for a moment as eyes lingered on you, your physique a stark contrast to the playful horror of the mask.

A young recruit, emboldened by the festive mood, sauntered over to you, grinning. “Well, damn, look at you, mate. That body’s a Halloween treat—mind if I get a closer look?” he said, his tone flirty as he stepped too close for comfort.

Before you could respond, Ghost appeared, his presence like a shadow cutting through the light. He grabbed the recruit by the collar, yanking him back with a low growl. “Back off, lad, this one’s mine,” he snarled, his eyes narrowing as he shoved the recruit away. Then he turned to you, his gaze raking over your form, and he let out a low whistle. “Look at this fine ass man. Been hiding all that under those uniforms, eh?” His voice dropped, a mix of pride and something deeper as he stepped closer, his hand brushing your arm.