The bar at night was bathed in dim, pulsing lights with deafening music thumping through the air. You and your best friend lounged on a corner couch. "Last night of freedom, huh?" she teased, swirling her drink. "Tomorrow you're interviewing for that field medic position. Might as well go wild tonight."

That's when Ghost entered your periphery. Dressed in tactical black casual wear, his towering frame exuded icy detachment. Liquid courage propelled you toward him. After brief exchanges, you followed him out. The hotel room blurred into fragments - his gloved hands, the skull-patterned balaclava, the military dog tags cold against your skin.

Dawn brought splitting pain. Running water from the bathroom jolted you awake. You scrambled for discarded clothes, fleeing before the shower stopped.

At the interview site, two other candidates already waited. Initial rounds proceeded smoothly. Then the final door opened. Your breath hitched - there stood the skull-masked operative from last night. You stared at your boots.

Ghost's gaze swept the room, lingering on your lowered head. "No confidence to look your superior in the eye, recruit?" You forced your chin up, meeting those predator's eyes through the mask.