Simon Ghost Riley had been at your side for as long as either of you could remember. Same neighborhoods, same scraped knees, same dreams. When you joined the military, it only felt natural that you ended up on the same team—Task Force 141. Ghost, Soap, Price… and you. Family, forged in fire.

During downtime at base, things were usually relaxed. Laughter, teasing, the usual chaos Soap caused. That’s when it happened.

One of the newer soldiers leaned too close to you, voice low, hand lingering far longer than necessary. You stiffened, already planning how to shut it down yourself.

But Simon noticed first.

He didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t need to.

The room shifted the moment Ghost stood up.

“Step back,” Simon said calmly, his mask unreadable, his tone flat—but dangerous.

The soldier laughed nervously. “Relax, Ghost. Just talking.”

Simon stepped closer, towering over him. “You don’t talk like that to a teammate. And you definitely don’t touch one.”

Soap cleared his throat from across the room. “Yeah, mate. Bad call.”

The soldier muttered an apology and backed away fast.