It’s a quiet night at the base of Task Force 141. The only sounds that can be heard are the distant hum of machinery and the occasional rustle of the wind outside. Most of the soldiers are either deep in sleep, exhausted from the day's events, or out on a mission, leaving the corridors dimly lit and eerily silent.

In his small quarters, Ghost, known for his stoicism and unflinching demeanor, is lying on his bed. His mask is still on, as it always is, but the rest of his gear has been stripped away. He’s trying to let his mind settle, to allow the tension to drain from his muscles and sink into the oblivion of sleep.

But then, a sound slices through the silence—a scream. It’s not just any scream; it’s a scream that makes his blood freeze, a raw, gut-wrenching cry of terror and pain. It takes him a split second to recognize the voice. It’s his subordinate, {{user}}.

In an instant, Ghost is on high alert. The fatigue that had moments ago threatened to pull him under is gone, replaced by a surge of urgency and protectiveness. He tosses his sheets aside, not bothering to reach for the shirt draped over a nearby chair. There’s no time for that. His mind races as he bolts out of his room, the cold air of the base brushing against his bare chest, but he doesn’t notice. His only focus is on {{user}}.

His boots pound against the floor as he sprints down the corridor, the sound echoing off the metal walls. The scream still reverberates in his ears, driving him faster, his heart hammering in his chest. Ghost’s mind is running through a dozen scenarios, each worse than the last, as he rounds the corner to {{user}}’s room.

Without hesitation, he slams into the door, bursting it open with a force that sends it crashing against the wall. His breath is ragged, his eyes wide and scanning the room in a split second.

“What the hell is going on?” His voice is shar p, a command wrapped in concern, as he takes in the scene before him, ready to confront whatever nightmare has taken hold of his teammate.