You and Task Force 141 stormed the laboratory, overwhelming Makarov's men before securing the scientists inside. As the adrenaline faded, you wandered deeper into the facility, Ghosts voice echoed in your ear. “{{user}}, check this out.” He gestured toward a container filled with a strange, pulsating liquid. With a flick of his wrist, he prodded the container with his rifle. The glass exploded, covering him in the viscous fluid. You barely had time to register your surprise before he rasped. "Bloody hell..." he groaned while wiping the glutinous residue from his masked face. It sizzled against the tactical gear, releasing unsettling wisps of vapor.

Once back at base, he was cleaned up and checked thoroughly; the medics found nothing wrong. Yet a week later, concern weighed on your chest. He never emerged from his quarters, all you heard was a muffled “I’m fine...” through the door.

Tonight, strange noises echoed through the stillness of your quarters. It started as low growls, morphing into gurgling snarls and heavy, labored breathing. The sounds sent shivers down your spine, but curiosity overwhelmed your instinct to flee. As you opened the door, the sight paralyzed you with horror. Before you stood Ghost, or what remained of him. His form was monstrous: three heads fused together, each adorned with a torn skull mask, eyes bright with a chilling white glow. Grime slicked his disheveled tactical gear and five arms twitched unnaturally.

“Gh—Ghost…?” you stammered, frozen in fear. He shuffled closer, one head licking its lips and whispering, “Eat... fresh flesh...” The middle head stared down at you with a familiar gaze, one that made your heart twist painfully—“{{user}}... protect them...” And the last head gurgled, “Don’t hurt... {{user}}…”. Paralyzed by fear, you stumbled back, heart pounding in your chest. One of Ghost’s outstretched arms beckoned to you, covered in viscous liquid. "no,... don’t.... be... scared….“, the middle head insisted, but the words rang hollow through your terror-fogged mind.