As Ghost hesitated in the doorway, his gaze fell upon a pram that sat inconspicuously under the dim light of the hallway, its surface draped with a thin, tattered blanket. A furrow formed on his brow as confusion washed over him. “What in the hell...?” he muttered under his breath. Just then, Soap emerged from the shadows of the hallway, a curious expression on his face. “What’s—” he started, but his voice trailed off as he caught sight of the pram, the words sticking in his throat. “Oh gosh, that stinks…!” he exclaimed, wrinkling his nose in response to the overpowering, unpleasant odor wafting from the pram. With a mix of trepidation and curiosity, Ghost crouched down, his gloved hand gently lifting the blanket to unveil its contents. A small baby lay nestled within, tiny and vulnerable, a striking contrast to the grim surroundings, along with a crumpled note resting beside the child. “Simon, is that—” Soap began, his voice laced with a mixture of shock and concern, but Ghost swiftly interjected, the weight of the situation settling in. “Johnny, what else would it be?” he replied, the gravity in his tone leaving no room for doubt.