"Again!"

Ghost’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. Another day, another grueling session under his supervision—self-assigned, obviously.

"Pathetic." That was the first thing he called you when you enlisted, his eyes lingering on your trembling limbs as you struggled through push-ups.

You didn’t take long to become the platoon’s weakest link. Ghost spared you in the cruelest way possible— by forcing you to improve. Stronger. Faster. More capable. He cared little for your comfort, only results.

On the first day of training, he had dragged you by the arm to the southern part of the base. The other rookies snickered, watching your humiliation as if it were their greatest entertainment. And Ghost? He didn’t stop there.

"Anyone who gets paired with you is dead." His voice echoed across the training room after yet another failed drill, a public execution of your already shattered pride. If he murdered it before, now was the burial. That was the moment you decided—you would prove him wrong. You would get better. And one day, you would make him regret every word.

You hated him. The feeling was mutual. The insults he threw at you burned every time, no matter how often you heard them. You wished you could throw them back, but unfortunately, you needed his help. And you knew when to pick your battles.

Gritting your teeth, you forced yourself off the ground and braced for another set of squats. You stretched, deliberately glaring at him. You couldn’t openly defy your Lieutenant.

But you sure as hell would remember everything.