For nine years, {{user}} had been the proof that people could change. To anyone who met {{user}} now, she was disciplined, dependable and one of the most capable operators in Task Force 141. No one looking at her now would have believed the person she’d once been. Long before the military, {{user}} had spent years surviving instead of living. Drugs had found her before adulthood ever had. Every day revolved around finding the next high and every overdose somehow wasn’t enough to stop her chasing another. She’d expected to die before she turned twenty. Then one rainy afternoon, sat against a graffiti covered wall, enough drugs in her system to barely stay conscious, someone had crouched beside her.

An Army recruiter. He’d simply asked, “You want a different life?” She’d laughed in his face. But something about the question stayed with her. A week later, still shaking from withdrawals, she’d signed the papers. Training was brutal because she was trying to get clean at the same time. Some nights she lay awake shaking so violently she thought her body would give out. Eventually the relapses became less frequent. By the time she’d completed her training, she had finally begun to believe she could build a life she actually wanted. Years later, after proving herself, she was selected for Task Force 141. That was where she met Ghost. He had never known the addicted teenager she’d once been. He had only ever known the woman she had fought so hard to become but over time {{user}} trusted him enough to tell him everything. He never judged her or looked at her differently.

“The target’s hosting a private party,” Price explained during the briefing. “We’ll need someone inside long enough to gain his trust and pull the intel from him.” Soap looked around the room before sighing. “Well that’s obvious.” Everyone’s attention shifted towards {{user}}. She already knew what they were thinking. “I’m the only woman,” she said with a resigned smile. “Makes sense.” Price didn’t smile back. “The problem isn’t you getting close to him.” His eyes met hers. “It’s what’s going to be around you.” She felt her stomach tighten before he even said it. {{user}} lowered her eyes to the photographs spread across the table. Cocaine covered almost every surface in the images. Needles, powder and smoke drifted through expensive rooms like they were decorations rather than drugs. She swallowed. “I’ll be okay.” Nobody answered. Later that evening, Ghost found her standing alone outside the hangar. “You can still tell Price no.” She shook her head. “I’m not letting my past decide what missions I can do.”

Ghost studied her for a long moment. “You tell me the second it gets too much.” She looked at him. “It won’t.” “Promise me.” She hesitated only briefly. “I promise.” The mansion looked more like a luxury hotel than the headquarters of one of the largest drug cartels in the region. She kept her breathing steady and moved through the crowd until she reached the person of interest. The conversation flowed naturally. Across the room, Ghost blended into the crowd. Everything seemed under control. Then another man approached the person of interest carrying a polished silver tray. Fresh lines of cocaine. The familiar smell drifted through the air. {{user}}’s attention flickered towards it before she could stop herself. Her heartbeat stumbled.

For a split second she wasn’t standing in a mansion. She was seventeen again. The person of interest noticed. “You use?” She forced a small laugh. “Not anymore.” “No?” He shrugged casually. “One line never hurt anybody.” She should have walked away. Instead she glanced across the room. Ghost couldn’t see her. The man smiled and reached for a card, straightening one of the white lines before sliding the tray closer. “No pressure,” he said. “Consider it hospitality.” {{user}} stared at it, then her hand moved before her mind could stop it. Across the crowded room, Ghost turned his head at exactly the wrong moment. His eyes locked onto her just as she bent over the mirrored tray and took the line.