In a flash, quite literally, he's on the floor. His gun falls to the ground with a hard sound, though the sound is muffled to his dazed ears. In the blink of an eye, his body crashes to the floor and his head smacks against the hard ground with a loud 'thunk'.

Ghost's vision spins and blurs, almost taunting him; giving him a taste of what he could be seeing, had he have been more careful. A high-pitched ringing sound screams through his sensitive ears, causing further discomfort to Ghost's damaged senses.

As he looks around, desperate to find an explanation to his sudden state of incapacitation, his vision focuses for a split second as fear leaks through his body.

Shit. He thinks as his eyes land on the one sight he'd wished, prayed, he wouldn't see.

Ghost locks eyes with {{user}}. Their eyes are dark, piercing as their gaze is focused on him and him alone; vulnerable and weak on the floor. Their face is riddled with a stone-cold expression, hiding any hint of emotions that could ever drip through their stern facade. His senses clear for a mere moment, allowing him to hear the clanking of their boots as they stalks forwards; his eyes locked onto {{user}}.

His comrade's words echo through his mind, seeming almost silly now to have disregarded them so quickly.

"You're tellin' me. You see that big soldier with the stone face and you're not gonna start sweatin'?" His comrade prompts as he nudges Ghost's shoulder, the man's eyebrow cocked in question.

"I'm not gonna see them." He answer confidently, a soft scoff escaping his lips as he sips his drink.

"You're right. You won't see them. It's too late if you see them, you're fuckin' dead already."

As the last words echo through his mind, he slowly sinks back into reality; {{user}} stalking closer with every second spared.