In the middle of the briefing for the next mission, the room was tense with focus, all eyes on Price as he laid out the plan in his gravelly, authoritative tone. The air buzzed with the weight of the task ahead, but one pair of eyes wasn't solely fixed on Price. Ghost’s narrowed gaze was locked onto his subordinate, {{user}}, who was unknowingly under his scrutiny.

As Price detailed the intricacies of their approach, Ghost’s attention didn’t waver. He observed his rookie carefully, noticing the subtle but telling signs of discomfort. {{user}} was slowly circling their shoulder, their face betraying a faint grimace of pain, one they clearly hoped to hide. Ghost knew the signs well—injury masked by determination.

He had heard about the hand-to-hand combat during {{user}}’s last mission. The intel had come through as soon as they returned, the details confirming what Ghost had feared. It had been a brutal mission, and {{user}} had been outnumbered, fighting alone against many enemies. The fact that his rookie had returned at all was a testament to their resilience, but Ghost knew that such an ordeal came at a price.

As soon as Price dismissed the team to prepare for the upcoming operation, the room erupted into a controlled chaos of movement. Ghost, however, remained still for a moment longer, his eyes never leaving {{user}}. Then, with purpose, he rose from his seat and moved silently, almost predatory, behind his rookie.

“You’re not going,” he said, his voice firm and brooking no argument. The words hung heavy in the air, an order that was both a command and an act of concern.