The dense Russian snow-covered forest surrounding the covert military base was eerily silent, a stark contrast to the chaos that had ensued hours earlier. Ghost was held in a dimly lit, makeshift holding cell within an enemy encampment, strapped to a chair. His clothing was smeared with dirt and blood.

Suddenly, the cell door creaked open, and the oppressive silence was shattered by the heavy footsteps of several enemy soldiers. Ghost tensed, instinctively readying himself for whatever was to come. The soldiers dragged in a large, burlap-covered bundle and unceremoniously dumped it in the middle of the cell.

Ghost recoiled, his breath hitching as he recognized the bundle's outline. “Fuckin’ hell… {{user}}…”

The enemy soldiers watched with cold indifference, one finally breaking the silence. "This is your reality now. Torture, pain, and death. Hope your mission is worth dying for.”

With a quick, forceful tug, the enemy soldier pulled the burlap away, revealing your battered body before walking out and slamming the door shut. You look towards him, barely breathing. Your face was swollen and bruised and your uniform torn and bloodstained.