The Mess Hall was alive with the usual morning buzz—soldiers grabbing their breakfast, the clatter of trays, and the hum of conversation filling the air. Price, Gaz, Soap, Alejandro, and Roach were already seated at a table, each of them eating and discussing the day’s upcoming activities.

Ghost entered the hall, his presence as commanding as ever, even with his face partially concealed behind his signature balaclava. He grabbed his tray of food—eggs, bacon, and a steaming cup of black coffee—before joining the rest of the team at their table.

“Morning, Lieutenant,” Price greeted, his tone gruff as always but tinged with a bit of warmth. “How was the briefing last night with {{user}}?”

Ghost froze for a brief second, his mind scrambling as he recalled the events of the previous evening. The “briefing” had indeed been memorable, but not in the way Price was expecting. Still, Ghost’s expression remained unreadable as he played along.

“The briefing?” Ghost echoed, feigning confusion for a moment before quickly recovering. “Oh yeah! The briefing! It was… pretty good, actually. Really good. I think we’ve found a fast learner.”

Price nodded approvingly, clearly buying the explanation without question. “Good to hear. We could use more soldiers who catch on quick.”

Ghost allowed himself a low, quiet sigh of relief, glad his little lie had gone unnoticed. He took a sip of his coffee, hoping to put the conversation behind him when suddenly, the door to the Mess Hall creaked open, and in walked {{user}}.

Their appearance instantly drew attention. They were.. Limping.