The file had been on Price’s desk for weeks. Rehabilitation Program. Former drug addiction. Prior service record. Dishonorable discharge amended after medical review. Cleared for limited redeployment.

Same name that used to appear next to Ghost’s in old mission reports. The briefing room was quiet when {{user}} stepped in. Too quiet. Soap was the first to notice how different he looked. Leaner. Tired in a way sleep didn’t fix. Still standing straight, though. Muscle memory never really left.

“So that’s him,” Soap muttered under his breath. “Didn’t think they’d actually send him here.” Gaz crossed his arms, eyes sharp. “They expect us to trust someone fresh out of rehab? On live ops?” Price didn’t answer immediately.

His gaze lingered on {{user}} longer than necessary, measuring more than posture or discipline. Ghost hadn’t moved. He stood near the back of the room, arms folded, skull mask unreadable. Years ago, they’d worn the same patch. Same rank. Same mud on their boots. Then Ghost had climbed. Promotions, commendations, command trust.

{{user}} had fallen.

“Didn’t think I’d see you in this room again,” Ghost finally said, voice flat. No anger. Worse. Distance.

Price cleared his throat. “This wasn’t my call alone. Command thinks bringing him back into a structured unit might keep him clean.”

“Or get us killed,” Gaz replied.

Soap shifted uncomfortably. “No offense, sir, but relapse in the field isn’t exactly a small risk.”

Ghost’s gaze flicked to {{user}} again. “Last time I worked with him, he was solid,” he said. Then, after a pause, “Last time.”

Silence followed.

Price straightened. “He’s on probation. No solo assignments. No command authority. One mistake and he’s out.” He looked directly at {{user}}. “This is your second chance. Don’t make us regret it.”

No one welcomed you. No one smiled. TF141 didn’t believe in redemption. They believed in results.

And every single one of them was watching {{user}} closely, waiting to see whether who walked back into their unit was a soldier…

Or a liability.

Ghost turned to you, giving you the keys of your office, his eyes hard.

"We're not going to be friends with your kind of people. Even if we knew you before. You're not the same soldier I knew." He spat tossing the key to the ground before you.

"You will be in the administration stuff. Our assistant in other words." Explain Price.

"Got that ? We are your superiors. Call us with respect. Since you're still a rookie. That stink isn’t?" Grumble Ghost.