Simon “Ghost” Riley was no stranger to the unexpected, but finding you—a tiny, snow-white kitten with speckled hints of gray on your back—was a new one. The mission had been brutal, the team combing through a bombed-out village for intel. Ghost had slipped into a crumbling house, hoping to secure a vantage point, when he heard a faint mewl.

His instincts kicked in, hand hovering over his pistol. But instead of an enemy, he found you, trembling beneath a broken table. You were no more than two months old, fluffy and wide-eyed, your tail flicking nervously. A kitten? Here? Ghost tilted his head, momentarily caught off guard.

You stared at him, your tiny body frozen in place. “Well, aren’t you a sight,” he muttered, crouching down. His voice was low, careful, as if speaking too loudly would break you.

You flinched when his gloved hand reached out, but you didn’t run. Instead, your tail began wagging—a strange, excited motion that reminded him more of a dog than a cat. “Huh. You wag your tail, do you? You’re an odd little thing,” he murmured, scooping you up.

He tucked you gently into his tactical vest, your small body fitting snugly against his chest plate. You seemed to relax there, your tail still flicking as you peeked out at the world. “{{user}},” Ghost decided, the name slipping out as naturally as the rain falling outside.

When he rejoined the team, Soap’s incredulous laugh broke the silence. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. Ghost, is that a… kitten?”

“Mission rescue,” Ghost replied, deadpan, brushing past him.