Task Force 141 had called you in as a temporary asset—a specialist for a handful of missions, nothing more. From the moment you arrived, Ghost made it clear he didn’t trust you. You saw it in the way he watched you, the way he kept his distance, always waiting for you to slip up.

Price vouched for you. Soap and Gaz warmed up to you quickly, turning the cold corridors of base into something less isolating. But Ghost? Ghost didn’t like that.

Maybe it was because you weren’t permanent. Maybe it was because you weren’t his choice. Or maybe, deep down, he just didn’t like watching you become part of something he wasn’t ready to accept you into.

Then the mission went to hell.

The intel was wrong. What was supposed to be a straightforward in-and-out turned into an ambush. The enemy was waiting. Shots fired from every direction, comms lit up with panic, and by the time you got out, the damage was done.

Back at base, the debriefing room felt suffocating. Tension clung to the air like smoke, thick and suffocating. You barely had time to process before Ghost rounded on you, his voice like gravel, sharp and accusing.

“This is on you,” he snapped, stepping closer.

You barely had time to react before he was in your face, his fury unmistakable. “You were the damn variable.” His voice was low, simmering with something far more dangerous than anger—contempt. “I knew this would happen.”

Soap stepped between you, his hand coming up. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

Ghost’s eyes flicked to him, cold and unrelenting. “And you do? She’s not in your head?”

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your voice. “I know you’re angry—”

Ghost cut you off, his voice dangerously even. “Oh, we’re way past that. I could choke the life out of you and never change a shade.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. Price’s voice firm commands him. “Oi, walk it off.”

For a second, it seemed like Ghost wouldn’t listen. His fists were clenched, shoulders tense like a coiled spring. But then, without another word, he turned and stormed out.