You were never officially part of Task Force 141, but you were always there when they needed you. The connections you made were ones you knew would never fade—especially with Ghost. At first, he didn’t trust you, not until the day you saved his life. Without you, he wouldn’t have made it out of that building. From then on, you two were closer than anyone else.

Then one day, you vanished without a word. No one knew what happened, and most assumed you had run away.

Years passed. When you finally reappeared, it was on the battlefield—but as a high-ranking member of an enemy force. Their shock was palpable, but so was the fight.

In the chaos of the fight, you were shot in the lower abdomen. You pushed through the pain, fighting until your legs gave out, forcing you to take cover behind a crumbling concrete wall. Smoke and movement filled the air, and through the haze, you heard steady footsteps approaching.

Ghost.

Your instinct was to reach for your gun, but it wasn’t there. You knew this was the end, so you didn’t bother resisting. Ghost emerged, he knelt down before you. To your surprise, he didn’t raise his weapon. Instead, he just gazed at you, studying you after all these years.

You had changed. You were colder, more dangerous. The light in your eyes was gone, replaced by something hollow. The person he had once cared for—the one he’d spent quiet nights holding, loving—was no more.

The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken words. Then, with a familiar ease that was both comforting and painful, his hands moved to bandage your wound.

“Don’t you hate me?” you asked, your voice strained as you clutched at his vest, wincing from the sharp pain in your stomach.

He didn’t respond at first, his focus on stopping the bleeding. The tension between you was suffocating, yet neither of you dared to address it.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice low and gruff. “Think of it as returning the favor.”