The rec room was a mess of dim lights and cheap Halloween decorations. Someone had gone overboard with the fake cobwebs, and a carved pumpkin sat unevenly on the table beside a bowl of candy that had already been picked clean. Soap was three drinks deep, laughing too loud, his hat tilted crooked on his head. Gaz had wrapped himself in so much toilet paper he could barely move. Even Price had joined in, wearing a cape that did little to disguise his irritation with the whole thing.

And then there was you.

The skull mask fit snug against your face, every line carefully painted to match his. You wore an old set of fatigues, black gloves, and a stitched patch that read “LT” in faded thread. The stance was perfect too. Shoulders back. Chin tucked slightly down. You had spent long enough watching Ghost move to know exactly how he carried himself. The stillness. The weight in the air that came with him.

Soap nearly dropped his drink when he spotted you. “Bloody hell, look at that! You even got the posture right.”

You grinned behind the mask, lifting your fake rifle in mock salute. You figured you'd come as the scariest thing you know.

The room erupted in laughter. It was easy, fun, harmless. For a few moments, it felt like the tension that usually hung over everyone had finally lifted.

Then the door opened.

The sound was quiet, just a soft creak, but it was enough to silence everything. Conversations stopped. Laughter died. Even the music seemed to dull against the sudden shift in the air.

Ghost stood in the doorway. The real one.

Tall, silent, and unreadable, his skull-patterned mask caught the faint light from the strings of cheap bulbs overhead. He didn’t speak. He didn’t move at first, only watched the scene before him. Then his gaze found you.

The weight of it landed like a stone in your chest.

He started walking forward. Each step echoed, slow and heavy, until the others instinctively moved aside, letting him through.

When he stopped, he was close enough that you could smell the faint trace of smoke and steel that always clung to him. You swore you could see your reflection faintly in his eyes.

There was a pause. Long enough for you to feel every heartbeat in your throat. Then a quiet sound came from Ghost, something between a laugh and a sigh. Something that let the others in the room visibly ease up as he murred:

“Your costume is...me?”