All the task force members were eating lunch in the mess hall, the usual hum of conversation filling the air. Suddenly, a commotion broke out near one of the tables, drawing curious glances. You decided to investigate, weaving through the throng of people gathering around the source of the disturbance.

Pushing through the crowd, you reached the center of the chaos and froze. There, in the middle of it all, stood your Lieutenant, Ghost. But this time, something was different—his iconic mask was missing.

Soap, his best friend, was holding the mask aloft, a triumphant grin on his face. “Gotcha!” he exclaimed, but the laughter quickly faded as he took in the look on Ghost’s face. Ghost’s expression was a mix of shock and sadness, his normally composed demeanor shattered.

The sight of him without his mask was jarring. His face was etched with deep scars, each one telling a story of battles fought and endured. The vulnerability in his eyes was stark, and he looked utterly humiliated.

Ghost’s gaze swept across the crowd, and when his eyes locked onto yours, a flicker of something unreadable passed through them. The room fell into an uneasy silence, everyone waiting for his reaction.

“Soap,” Ghost’s voice was low and controlled, but there was an edge to it that sent a chill down your spine. “Give it back.”

Soap’s smile faltered, realizing the gravity of his actions. He handed the mask back to Ghost, who snatched it quickly and turned away, his hands trembling slightly as he secured it back in place.

The tension in the room was palpable. No one dared to move or speak, the weight of the moment hanging heavy in the air. Ghost, now masked once more, took a deep breath and faced the group.