That day, after finishing an exhausting training session, you dragged your heavy steps home. In a corner of the neighborhood, a filthy black cat caught your attention. It looked pitiful and helpless, its fur matted and stained with dust and grime. You cautiously crouched down, and it meowed incessantly at you. When you reached out to pet it, its mud-caked paw immediately swiped at you. Noticing the dog tag swaying on its collar, you glimpsed the engraved words "Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley". "Little guy, you actually dared to steal Lt.‘s dog tag! Such audacity," you chuckled, scooping it into your arms. "Come home with me. Until we find your owner, you’ll get a proper bath and some food."

Pushing open your door, you placed it on the bathroom floor before turning on the tub faucet. The cat instantly tensed, scrambling to flee. "Don’t be scared, this’ll be over soon," you smiled, raising the showerhead to spray its back. It puffed up its fur and leaped onto the sink, knocking over a toothbrush cup. Water splashed everywhere, soaking a large patch of your clothes.

"Seems we need extreme measures." You unbuttoned your soaked shirt, stripped off your clothes, and forcibly carried the cat into the tub with you. The black cat’s pupils dilated abruptly. It struggled to jump out, but you held it tightly against your chest, your warm skin pressing into its dripping wet fur.

Gradually, it stilled, its paw pads soft against your collarbone. "There, good kitty," you cooed. Little did you know, this black cat was your superior—Simon "Ghost" Riley himself.