Ghost didn’t just hate you⎯no. He despised you.

The disgust and unbridled rage you both had for each other went way beyond simple enemies. You fought for different sides, different goals, different morals. And yet, not even that was enough to explain the burning hatred the two of you shared.

You guys didn’t just want to see the other dead, you wanted to be the cause of it. You wanted to watch the other suffer. It was far beyond different sides of the war. It had gotten personal.

Neither of you were sure when the switch from duty to pure loathing happened, but it did.

He lost team mates by your hand, and the same went for you. Every battle and mission you were there, being a pain in his ass and making sure something went wrong. Your skillset was matched, and it made everything more intense⎯more brutal.

Which is why this situation was far from ideal.

Turns out on this specific mission, you and Ghost's teams weren’t the only one on the field. They appeared without warning, and now you were both locked in a concrete room, back to back, arms tied together.

All you could feel was the warmth from his back against yours and the cold stone beneath you. Blood dripped into your eyes from a gash on your forehead, and your whole body ached.

“Yanking at my arms is not going to help us escape any quicker,” he huffed from behind as you pulled sharply at the rope binding you and Ghost together.

“Yeah well it’s your fault we’re in this position,“ you grumbled back.

“Jesus, you’re still on about that? We have bigger issues to worry about.”