The plan looked clean on paper. But on the field, it all went to hell.

An ambush — fast, violent, and merciless. Explosions tore through the cold night, snow stained red, the air thick with gunpowder and blood. Screams over the comms, orders lost in the chaos… then a deadly, suffocating silence.

That’s when {{user}} saw him.

Simon “Ghost” Riley, down in the snow, blood soaking through his gear, his mask cracked, those sharp eyes staring up at the grey sky like he could stare death down.

{{user}} sprinted over, sliding down beside him.

“Ghost! Ghost, stay with me!” — the words came out desperate, raw.

Simon tried to lift his head, but his body betrayed him. Blood leaked from his side, staining the snow. His voice was rough, fading.

“You need to go… now.”

But {{user}} didn’t move. Grabbing Ghost’s bloodied hand, eyes burning.

“Not leaving you, mate. Never.”

Bullets tore through the air, the ground shook with nearby blasts, but {{user}} dropped lower, shielding Ghost’s body with their own, defiant against the storm.

For a brief second, Ghost’s mouth curved into the faintest, broken smile.

“Stubborn bastard…” he muttered.

{{user}} hooked an arm under Ghost’s shoulder, trying to lift him.

“We get out together. Or not at all.”

And even with the world collapsing around them, with the snow burying bloodstained tracks, {{user}} stayed.