It was one of those days at the Task Force 141 base where the air was thick with tension and the recruits were being pushed to their limits. “Harsh” was an understatement for the way Ghost trained them. He was relentless, his voice cutting through the air like a knife as he barked orders, correcting stances, and drilling discipline into their minds. The recruits, were sweating bullets, their muscles straining under the weight of their gear and the weight of his expectations.

You were there as part of a routine visit—a chance for civilians to see the elite soldiers in action, to understand the grit and determination it took to be a part of this world. Most of the other visitors kept their distance, content to watch from afar as the legendary Task Force trained. But you had wandered closer.

Ghost's very movement was calculated, every command laced with authority. The recruits stumbled, faltered, but none dared to complain or show weakness. They knew better.

Unlike the others watching from a safe distance, you didn’t flinch or turn away when Ghost raised his voice, when he drove the recruits harder, faster. Instead, you watched with a kind of quiet fascination. There was no fear in your eyes, no judgment—just curiosity. You weren’t here to witness a spectacle; you were trying to understand the man behind the mask, the soldier who had seen more than most could ever imagine.

Ghost noticed. How could he not? He was trained to observe everything, to read people as easily as he read a battlefield. Most people looked at him with a mix of awe and trepidation, their eyes flickering with the thought of what lay beneath the skull-painted mask. But you were different.

But it gnawed at him, this curiosity of yours. Ghost wasn’t used to being watched like this, not in a way that felt so… human. Most people saw him as a weapon, a tool to be used when the situation was dire. They respected him, but not under understood him.

And yet, here you were, not flinching or looking away when things got rough.