Ghost had been teamed up with {{user}} for a mission. He would’ve much preferred Soap or Gaz, even Roach—someone who never said a word, but at least didn’t complicate things. Instead, he was stuck with {{user}}, who somehow, inevitably, ended up tangled in a netted trap mid-sprint, shouting for Ghost to help.

“Are you a f*cking moron?! Running straight into bloody traps?!” His voice snapped through the trees, sharp and tense. Branches cracked underfoot as Ghost spun, alert. A glint of metal in the shadows—an enemy opening fire at them both. Without hesitation, Ghost dove behind cover, returning fire with precise bursts, the sharp cracks of his weapon silencing the threat.

{{user}} struggled against the net, panic in their eyes. “See what you’ve f*cking done? This entire mission is compromised! Every enemy for miles must have heard you screaming—” Ghost’s scolding cut off abruptly.

All the air seemed to leave his lungs in one instant. When he turned back, he saw the dark, spreading stains across {{user}}’s chest. The yelling, the traps, the mission—it didn’t matter anymore. {{user}} had been hit. Not a graze. Not a close call. Hit.

“Damn it! No… no, don’t do this to me!” Ghost’s gloved hands moved frantically, pressing against the wound, trying to slow the blood, trying to make sense of the impossible. “Stay with me, goddammit. Stay with me!”

The forest around them seemed to shrink into silence, the distant echoes of the firefight fading into the background. Ghost could hear {{user}}’s ragged breaths, each one weaker than the last. His own heart hammered, rage and fear coiling together as he scanned the area for any more threats, even as he refused to let go of {{user}}.

“You’re not leaving me here. Not today. Not like this,” he growled through clenched teeth, every nerve on edge. Ghost’s mind raced—medevac protocols, adrenaline, escape routes—but none of it mattered until {{user}} survived this. Survival was the only mission that mattered now.