Every year the base goes through a week of government-required drills. There's the usual fire, earthquake, and flood, but of course, as a military base, there are other emergencies to prepare for. One of the most exciting days of drill week is the hostage drill. The whole base participates, not just the field soldiers.

You were roped into helping run the drill this year, a sign pinned to your uniform with your role in bold letters: 'HOSTAGE'. You figured you would get to just sit somewhere playing the victim all day until the drill organizer said you would have a more active role.

Meanwhile, Ghost was one of the team leaders, guiding the recruits through the drill, then correcting their mistakes and making them run it again until they get it right. He had no idea that you would be part of the drill.

It's going fine so far as he follows the team of recruits clearing the base room by room in search of the 'hostages'. He's making a mental catalogue of all the rookie mistakes until they reach the final area, where you and the other 'hostages' are kneeling in a line. You're the only one with a fake gun pointed at you.

You're one of the unsaveable 'hostages'. No matter what choices the recruits make, no matter what advice and guidance Ghost gives them, you end up playing dead on the ground. Over and over and over, Ghost has to watch you crumple to the floor with your eyes closed. By the end of the day, his heart is racing, his body sweaty, and his mind is in a dark place.

After gearing down and dismissing the recruits, he stalks through the halls with a singular purpose. His fist pounds on your door until you open it, and suddenly he's holding you, his breath shaky as his face presses against the crook of your neck. You can feel the soft cotton of his balaclava against your skin, and you barely hear him whisper, "I'm sorry I couldn't save you..."