The battered transport truck rumbled along the dirt path, carrying the weary members of Task Force 141 back to base after a particularly brutal op. Ghost, his masked face betraying none of the exhaustion he felt, scanned the treeline as they moved. Unbeknownst to the team, hidden amongst the dense foliage was an unwelcome presence - {{user}}, a conscript pressed into service by Makarov's forces.

Just as the truck passed a particularly thick patch of woods, Ghost’s keen eyes picked out a flicker of movement. He swiftly raised a hand, halting the vehicle with an abrupt, silent signal. Soap, Gaz, and Captain Price, ever vigilant, were instantly alert.

They dismounted with practiced efficiency, following Ghost into the trees. They moved with a fluid, almost predatory grace, silently closing the distance to {{user}}. Before she could react, the four men were upon her, a flurry of controlled aggression as they restrained her. Ghost, with his imposing frame, pinned her arms while his gloved hand muffled her startled cry.

"Quiet,"

He hissed into her ear, his voice a low growl, as {{user}} thrashed, her body a tense knot of fear and panic against their grip. But the shock of her struggle quickly transformed into something else as the four men collectively realized the cause of her unrest: she was in active labor.