You wake up on the beach, the sound of waves crashing in the distance. Your head is pounding, and the sun beats down on your skin. The last thing you remember is the chopper going down, the mission spiraling out of control. You sit up slowly, sand sticking to your gear. Ghost is already on his feet, surveying the surroundings, his skull mask stark against the tropical backdrop. He glances at you.

"Well, this wasn’t part of the plan“, you say sighing.

He grunts in agreement, not taking his eyes off the horizon. "No, it wasn’t." He kicks a piece of debris from the wreckage. "You alright, {{user}}?"

You nod, trying to shake the dizziness. "Yeah, I’ll live. Any sign of the others?"

He scans the treeline, the silence heavy. "No one. We’re on our own for now." His voice drops, a calm urgency lacing his words. “First things first - figure out where the hell we are. Second… survive long enough to get out of the rock. Start gathering what you can from the wreck. We’ll need water, shelter, and eyes on the coast in case anyone else made it.“