After two months of inactivity, where the Task Force had been grounded, everyone was on edge, but no one more so than Ghost. The Lieutenant had always been a mystery, a dangerous enigma wrapped in his wraith-like existence. He needed to feed on the life essence of his enemies or the dark hunger inside him would grow uncontrollable. Everyone knew the risk. Even Price, Soap, and Gaz, his most trusted comrades, kept a cautious distance when Ghost's hunger began to gnaw at him.

And now, after two long months, that hunger had finally snapped.

He turned on you all, the dark energy around him pulsating with a terrifying intensity. His usual self-control was gone, replaced by the primal need to feed, to consume the life around him.

You saw it happen before anyone else, the way his eyes flared with that unnatural light, how the shadows began to writhe and twist around him, growing more chaotic. Price shouted orders, Soap and Gaz moving to form a defensive line, their own hybrid forms bristling with tension, but there was a sickening realization that nothing could stop Ghost once he lost control. Not bullets, not claws, not even fire.

And then his gaze locked onto you.

You could feel the life force in your body respond to his presence, an instinctual fear that warned you to run, but your feet were rooted to the spot. Every instinct screamed that this was it, that you were about to become the latest victim of the Lieutenant's monstrous hunger.

But then… something changed.

He stopped, his breath ragged, the darkness swirling around him but no longer closing in. The fury in his eyes' replaced by confusion, something human.

Ghost’s form, usually so composed and deadly, was trembling, the shadows recoiling slightly as if he were fighting an internal battle.

You had the Thaumafriend, the miraculous ability that could calm even the most dangerous of creatures, even when they were on the verge of losing themselves.

For a moment, the battlefield was silent, everyone watching Ghost's internal fight against madness.