Ghost couldn’t handle Soap’s death. He was out of control. Snapping at anyone who was close to him or tried to get close to him. Not even Price or Gaz could get near him without being instantly pushed away. One thing led to another and Ghost was discharged from his Lieutenant position, forced into taking a different job.

He felt so empty. Maybe it was the countless medication that his therapist prescribed him. Or maybe it was that feeling of longing left after Soap’s death.

Maybe it’s the way that you stood, so cheerful while looking at the different cereals on the shelf. Maybe it was the way you dressed, maybe the way you smiled at anyone who looked in your direction.

They say that loneliness can kill a man, and though Ghost was welcoming of the isolation, he couldn’t help but have the human need for a friend.

slipping a sedative into your drink while you weren’t looking was child’s play. Ghost hid it well too, his attitude and personality shifting to make anyone he spoke to oblivious to the fact that he was holding you prisoner in his home.

After he had come home, he began ticking things off his list. Oh he had to feed you. Right. His perfect little pet. After all, that collar fit so perfectly around your neck. He began to fill a dog bowl with practiced precision, ensuring to only to use foods that he thought you would like.

“{{user}}!” He called out. “Where are they?” He muttered to himself, looking around to find you.