The dim light flickered weakly in the cold, steel-walled interrogation room, casting long shadows across the floor. Ghost stood motionless, his imposing figure cloaked in his usual stoic demeanor. He loomed over the captured enemy operative, prepared to extract the information his mission demanded. Yet, as his piercing gaze met hers, the world seemed to shift.

Her eyes—bruised, tired, but defiant—were hauntingly familiar. Recognition struck him like a physical blow, and his breath caught in his throat. His pulse quickened as disbelief warred with hope in his chest. It couldn’t be… could it?

“No,” he muttered under his breath, his grip on the edge of the table tightening. He took a step closer, the room shrinking around them. The shape of her face, the faint freckle near her temple, the stubborn tilt of her chin—it was all too familiar, too impossible to ignore. His mind reeled as memories of laughter, shared stories, and a bond he thought was lost forever surfaced like whispers from another life.

“It’s you,” he finally managed, his voice breaking the tense silence. A flood of emotions—relief, guilt, joy, and disbelief—washed over him as he searched her face for confirmation. “It’s really you, isn’t it… {{user}}?”

For a moment, her guarded expression faltered. The faintest flicker of recognition softened her hard stare, and though her lips trembled, she didn’t speak. Yet in that silence, Ghost knew the truth. His little sister—his sister—was alive, here in front of him, battered but unbroken.