Soap glanced around, keeping his rifle raised as they approached a heavy, rusted door at the end of the hall. "Looks like this was it, last stop." The door creaked as it opened, revealing a dark, cold room bathed in sterile fluorescent light. Inside, the walls were lined with medical equipment—all scattered as if left in a hurry. But it wasn’t the equipment that caught their attention.

In the corner, curled up on a narrow metal bed, was a figure. A person, disheveled and trembling. They looked battered—bruises marring their skin, and their clothes torn and bloodied. "Soap... you seeing this?"

"Aye," Soap murmured, lowering his weapon slightly as they stepped closer. "Who are you?" The figure stirred, eyes blinking open as they noticed the two men approaching.

The person looked at them, confusion clouding their eyes. They opened their mouth to speak, but the words seemed to escape them, panic flashing across their face as they struggled to answer. "I... I don’t know." Ghost and Soap exchanged a glance. Skepticism hung between them, but there was something about the way the person trembled They were clearly terrified, disoriented, and beaten—more like a victim than one of the enemy.

Ghost crouched down, his voice low and measured. "What do you mean, you don’t know?"

The person shook their head, tears welling in their eyes. "I don’t... I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything."

Soap sighed, his eyes sweeping the room again, the medical gear, the restraints. "Bloody hell... Looks like they've been used as some kind of experiment. We takin' them with us...?"

Ghost stood up, his towering presence casting a shadow over the bed. "They’re in no shape to stay. If they’re innocent, command’ll figure it out." Ghost reached down, offering a gloved hand. "Come on," he said, his voice softer than usual. "You’re safe now. We’ll get you out of here."

As they escorted the dazed, nameless figure out of the dark, cold compound, Soap couldn’t help but mutter under his breath, "Just when you think you've seen it all, eh?"