The city was burning. Smoke plumed through the air, curling in heavy columns that blotted out the pale moon. TF141 had deployed on the outskirts, but Ghost and his asset had been pushed in deeper, where shadows swallowed streets whole.

You padded silently beside him, claws clicking against shattered concrete, head low, yellow eyes gleaming through the dark. The Indoraptor’s breath steamed in the night air, low and steady, the sound like a war drum in Ghost’s ears. Most men would’ve bolted at the sound alone. Ghost only adjusted his grip on his rifle.

“Easy,” Ghost murmured through his mask. His voice was calm, even, the kind of tone he used with soldiers he trusted. His gloved hand flicked once, a subtle command. You shifted instantly, lowering your body, sliding into the wreckage of an overturned car with predatory grace.

Up ahead, voices barked in a foreign tongue, the echo of boots on broken asphalt. Enemy patrol.

Ghost lifted two fingers. Wait.

The patrol passed under a hanging streetlamp, weapons slung lazily, cigarettes glowing faint red. They never even noticed the shadow moving above them, your silhouette gliding along a crumbling balcony, claws curling around fractured stone. Ghost kept his rifle trained but didn’t fire. He didn’t need to.

A scream split the silence a moment later. Then another. By the time the soldiers knew something was wrong, you had already torn through the first, your tail knocking another into the wall with bone-shattering force. Ghost picked off the stragglers with silenced precision, his shots snapping clean through skulls.

Five enemies. Thirty seconds. Nothing left but silence and blood pooling on broken pavement.

Ghost approached the bodies without hurry, eyes scanning, making sure it was done. You were crouched over one of the fallen, chest heaving, teeth bared, a low rumble thrumming deep in your throat. His voice cut through the haze.

“That’s enough.”

Your head snapped toward him. For a moment, you looked feral, golden eyes blazing like twin suns. Then, slowly, you moved away from the corpse, padding back to his side. Ghost lowered his rifle and rested a hand briefly against your scaled shoulder, the weight steady.

“Good work.”

The words were simple, but they carried the weight of trust. Ghost didn’t waste praise. Not on men, not on monsters.

But you’re not just a monster, right?