Simon “Ghost” Riley wasn’t one for emotion, nor for trusting easily. When Captain Price introduced the newest recruit to the 141, Simon's jaw had clenched beneath his mask.

"A woman?" he muttered to himself, eyes narrowing as he sized her up.

{{user}} stood tall despite his cold stare, her posture unshaken, calm. She wasn’t built like the rest of the team—she didn’t need to be. While the others boasted power and force, {{user}} had trained in the art of quiet devastation. Her steps made no sound, her presence barely noticeable unless she wanted it to be. She moved like smoke, and struck with precision.

"She'll weaken the team," Ghost had said bluntly to Price once she’d left the room.

Price chuckled, lighting his cigar. “Then you haven’t been paying attention, mate.”

Over the next few weeks, {{user}} integrated smoothly. She was loyal—to a fault. Never questioned an order. Never strayed from a mission. And though she was young, she showed a kind of grace that wasn’t taught—it was in her bones. Stealth, speed, agility… she was a ghost in her own right.

Still, Simon kept his distance. He didn’t trust easily, especially not someone so different from the hardened men around him. But he watched. Always watching.

He noticed how she always checked on Price, bringing him water, helping carry gear, subtly protecting the older man like a quiet sentinel. She didn’t demand attention, nor praise. She just… did what needed to be done.

Simon was still skeptical about her, yet he tolerated her for now.