You hated water. Always did. Since that accident happened when you were a kid, you avoided anything related to water. And now, you're trapped on that stupid island with your team, dashing after your Lieutenant, Ghost, trying to survive.

The island wasn’t supposed to matter. Just a nameless strip of rock and jungle somewhere deep in the Pacific, used by smugglers and forgotten by everyone else. No civilians. No official records. The kind of place governments pretended didn’t exist. Task Force 141 had only stopped there for two reasons: refuel the boat and meet an informant. Simple.

The informant claimed he had intel on stolen missile guidance systems moving through the region—intel important enough for Captain Price to risk a quiet detour off-grid. In and out within the hour.That was the plan.

Then the comms died the second they hit shore. No satellite signal. No exfil confirmation. No informant waiting at the dock. Only lights in the distance. And footprints in the wet sand. By the time Ghost realized the island wasn’t abandoned, it was already too late. Rain hammered the island hard enough to blur the horizon into static.

Ghost moved low across the soaked boardwalk, suppressed rifle tight against his shoulder. The wood creaked under every careful step. Saltwater crashed beneath him in violent bursts, spraying cold against his boots. Ahead, the informant’s boat burned dim orange through the storm. “Ghost, {{user}} status?” Captain Price crackled through the comm. “Position set,” Ghost muttered. “No sign of the contact.” Then movement. Left side. Ghost snapped the rifle up just as a figure burst from behind a stack of fishing crates. Ghost ducked hard. Bullets ripped splinters from the railing beside his head. “Contact!” he barked.

Another gunman emerged farther down the dock. Then another. Ambush. Of course. Ghost fired twice. One dropped instantly into the water below. The second stumbled backward clutching his throat. More footsteps thundered across wet wood.

“They were waiting for us,” Gaz shouted over comms somewhere inland. Ghost pushed forward anyway. A man lunged from a doorway with a knife as gunfire cracked nearby. Ghost caught his wrist, slammed him face-first into the railing, then drove the blade back under the man’s ribs. Suddenly, one of the barrels lined on the dock sparked.

You saw it. Just for a second.

A thin trail of fuel burning toward the stack. The explosion hit like a truck. Heat swallowed the dock in white-orange light. The boardwalk erupted beneath Ghost and he felt himself airborne.

"GHOST!" You screamd, water swallowing your lieutenant.

The ocean slammed into Ghost like concrete. Freezing black water closed over his head instantly, dragging him down beneath burning debris and collapsing timber. Above him, distorted through bubbles and darkness, the island burned.