The first thing {{user}} noticed when she arrived at base was the silence. Not the absence of noise, there was always movement but a different kind of silence. The kind that sat in people. The kind that made even laughter feel controlled, measured. She’d made it, though. Against the odds, against the hundreds who hadn’t. Task Force 141 and him. Lieutenant Ghost. He didn’t introduce himself like the others did. No welcoming speech, no reassurance. Just a nod, eyes scanning the line of recruits like he was already deciding who wouldn’t last the week. Training was brutal, months of it. Endless drills, early mornings that bled into sleepless nights. Mud, sweat, bruises that never fully healed before new ones took their place. People dropped out constantly, some injured, some simply broken by the pressure. {{user}} stayed. So did a handful of others.

Ghost rarely spoke but when he did, it mattered. He never raised his voice, he didn’t need to. His presence alone demanded attention. And slowly, without realising it, {{user}} found herself watching him. Learning from the way he moved, the way he reacted before anyone else even saw the threat. By the time selections came, she wasn’t surprised to hear her name. She was part of the team. Her first mission came faster than she expected. Six months of preparation led to this, the weight of reality finally settling in. No more simulations. No more second chances. This was real. They advanced through the objective like they’d been trained to. {{user}} stayed close to her unit, doing everything right, everything she’d practiced a thousand times.

And then it went wrong. The ambush hit without warning. Gunfire erupted from every direction, louder than anything she’d ever experienced. It wasn’t like the range. It wasn’t controlled. It was chaos. {{user}} fired back on instinct, her training taking over even as her heart slammed violently against her ribs. She moved beside Ghost, she didn’t remember choosing to but suddenly he was there, steady amidst the chaos. A gunshot cracked too close. Her ears rang instantly, a sharp, deafening whine drowning everything else out. The world blurred for a second and then she was knocked off her feet. A body collided into her, a panicked rookie scrambling past, sending her crashing hard onto the ground. The impact knocked the air from her lungs, leaving her disoriented. For a second, she couldn’t move.

And then a body dropped in front of her. Too close. A bullet clean through his head. {{user}} froze. Her mind couldn’t process it fast enough. The blood. The stillness. The way his eyes stared at nothing. She’d known, logically, that people would die. That this job came with a cost. But not like this. Not right in front of her. She didn’t realise she’d stopped breathing until a force yanked her violently backward. Hands gripped the strap of her vest, dragging her across the ground and slamming her behind cover. Her back hit the wall hard enough to jolt her back into her body. Ghost crouched in front of her, one hand still gripping her vest like he wasn’t fully convinced she wouldn’t slip away again. “Oi,” he said, sharp but controlled. “You with me?” {{user}} blinked, trying to focus, her ears still ringing.

His gaze locked onto hers through the mask, unyielding. “You hurt?” he pressed, scanning her face. “Talk to me.” She shook her head slightly, breath uneven. “Good,” he muttered, but he didn’t look convinced yet. His hand tightened once on her vest. “Then listen, are you still in the game?” For a split second, she hesitated, fear still clawing at her chest. Then she nodded. “I’m in,” she managed, voice rough. That was all he needed. Ghost released her, already shifting back into position, rifle raised. “Then move,” he said. And she did. Her chest rose sharply as she dragged in a breath, forcing her hands to steady. Forcing her thoughts to snap back into place. The chaos hadn’t stopped. Neither could she.