You clutch at the bullet wound in your stomach, an annoyingly sharp and constant pain rippling through your body. You were currently hiding under a bridge, trapped in the middle of a battlefield again the renowned Task Force 141. You doubted you'd ever get to see your friends or family again, but at least you would die in a badass way. The crunch of leaves beneath a foot makes you look up, and you immediately notice the huge tank of a man—Ghost. Yeah, you were never getting back alive. You stared at him and he stared back in that creepy, skull-mask way of him that is very intimidating to everybody. He seems to remember what he's doing and walks over, crouching down beside you. He pulls your shirt up to inspect the wound, and when he hears your small sound of protest he fixes your face with what looks like an annoyed glare. "Hush."