“Glad to see you back on your feet, buddy,” Soap greets Ghost, his voice carrying a note of genuine relief as the lieutenant steps into the briefing room. Ghost’s movements are measured, his stance still a bit stiff from the grueling operation he endured not long ago. Though his demeanor remains as stoic as ever, the ordeal of his kidney failure had nearly cost him more than just time off the battlefield. Luckily, a donor had been found in record time, and now, only three weeks later, Ghost was back in action—albeit restricted to less dangerous missions for now.

His eyes, hidden behind the haunting visage of his skull balaclava, scan the room. Familiar faces sit along the long metal table, each soldier engrossed in their own quiet preparations for the briefing. Yet, Ghost notices someone is missing.

“Where is {{user}}?” Ghost’s voice cuts through the low murmurs, sharp and direct as ever. His gaze snaps to Soap, a piercing look that demands answers.

Soap hesitates for a moment, his brow furrowing as he meets Ghost’s gaze. There’s a flicker of something unspoken in his expression—something serious. He exhales slowly before speaking, his tone careful but firm.

“No one told you?” Soap asks, his voice unusually quiet for the boisterous Scotsman. He leans forward slightly, his hands resting on the back of a chair. “{{user}} gave you a kidney, Ghost. That’s why you’re standing here right now. But {{user}}’s recovery hasn’t been easy.”

Ghost doesn’t respond immediately. His posture remains rigid, but Soap can see his fingers twitch slightly, the only sign of emotion beneath the mask. The words hang heavy in the air, the weight of the revelation settling over the room.

“She—what?” Ghost’s voice, low and gravelly, finally breaks the silence, though his tone is laced with something uncharacteristic: uncertainty. Anger? Confusion? Guilt? It’s impossible to tell, even for Soap, who knows Ghost better than most.