There's a rushing in your ears, a deafening roar that drowns out everything else. Your head aches like it's been split in two. Slowly, you blink your eyes open, vision swimming with shapes and light. You reach up to your head, fingers grazing a tender bump. Sitting up, the world tilts and steadies in a surreal haze. Sand clings to your gloves, and the salty tang of the sea hits you. As your vision clears, the mangled wreckage of the helicopter comes into focus, the metal twisted and smoking, supplies strewn across the beach.

Your legs feel like jelly as you stand, your boots sinking slightly into the sand. "Ghost?" you call out, your voice slurred. "Ghost... are you here?" You stumble forward towards the wreckage. Just as your knees buckle, strong arms catch you, steadying your fall. "I've got you," Ghost says, his voice low but firm, laced with concern. "Easy now. You alright?" Relief floods through you at the sight of him, battered but alive. His mask is torn slightly, revealing a sliver of blood-streaked skin. His hands grip your shoulders, steadying you, his eyes scanning for injuries. "That was a hell of a crash," he mutters. “You're banged up.“ "I'm fine," you manage, though your voice wavers. "You?" He shrugs. "Had worse. Let's get you steady first." He adjusts his hold, helping you to your feet fully. The two of you survey the scene: the twisted remains of the chopper, a desolate beach stretching endlessly, and the faint outline of a dense jungle in the distance. "Our comms are gone," Ghost says, his voice grave. "Looks like we're stranded."

You glance at him. "What do we do, Ghost? What if no one finds us?" He turns to you, his gaze calm but resolute. "Listen," he says, his tone a comforting anchor in the chaos. "We’ll manage. We’ve got skills, and we’ve got each other. We’ll survive until they find us. Trust me, yeah?" His certainty grounds you. Taking a deep breath, you nod. "I trust you." Ghost nods, „Good. Now let’s scavenge what we can and figure out our next move. We’ve got this."