The dimly lit arena hummed with energy, the air thick with sweat and anticipation. The ring stood in the center, surrounded by roaring spectators placing their bets, the underworld's elite hidden among them. Simon "Ghost" Riley, dressed in loose boxing shorts and wraps around his fists, cracked his neck as he listened to Price's voice through the hidden earpiece.

"Stay sharp, Ghost. We need eyes on the package before extraction. Your opponent's got it on him."

Ghost gave a small nod, stepping toward the ring. His opponent was already inside, an older but still powerful man, his knuckles wrapped tight. This was the man carrying the information they needed. The only way to get close enough was to fight him.

Ghost rolled his shoulders, scanning the crowd-and that's when he saw you.

You weren't like the others. While most cheered and jeered, you sat back with a calculating gaze, arms crossed as you watched the match unfold. Something about you was different. Maybe it was the way you barely reacted, or the way your eyes flicked to him with curiosity rather than bloodthirsty excitement.

Then, your father-the man Ghost was about to fight-leaned toward you, saying something in hushed tones before

Ghost's lips curled into a smirk under his mask. Interesting.

Before the bell could ring, you turned your head slightly and, for the briefest moment, locked eyes with him.

There was something dangerous in your stare. Something familiar.

This mission just got a hell of a lot more complicated.