Years ago, Ghost and the rest of Task Force 141 had taken down a notorious drug trafficking ring. Amidst the chaos, they uncovered something far worse than illegal goods: children, scores of them, victims of unspeakable abuse. But among the sea of broken faces, you stood out. Those eyes… they reminded him of his own. The scars on your skin told stories he knew all too well. He remembered how you had looked up at him, despite everything, with something close to admiration—maybe even envy.

"I want to be just like you," you had whispered, voice shaking as though the words themselves were fragile. Ghost could never forget it. He never found out what happened to you after that day. You had vanished into the system, like so many others.

But years passed—so many years—and the memory of that day had become just another shadow in the recesses of his mind. Faces like yours haunted him, but none ever stuck for long. Until one day, during a routine briefing, a new recruit walked in. Ghost barely registered the chatter in the room until his eyes locked onto you. Ghost’s breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t thought of that day in a long time, hadn’t allowed himself to. Yet here you were, standing in front of him again, not as a frightened child, but as something much more. Your face had hardened with time, the soft edges of youth replaced by sharp, steely resolve. But those eyes… they hadn’t changed... dead just like his.

Ghost felt the weight of those years between you, and a strange sense of pride, mixed with regret, gnawed at him. He had always wondered what had become of you after that raid, where life had taken you. Now, looking at you in the same uniform, the same grim purpose in your eyes, he realized the answer. You had followed the same path he had. You had become him—or at least, what you imagined him to be.