The base is quiet tonight. too quiet. The kind of silence that creeps under your skin and makes your thoughts louder than they should be.

You sit outside the barracks, boots half unlaced, staring at the stars that barely shine through the smoke in the air. The mission ended hours ago, but it’s still replaying in your head. Every gunshot. Every scream.

Ghost walks up slowly. You don’t have to look to know it’s him—the way he moves, heavy but careful, always watching. He doesn’t say anything right away. Just stands there, mask on, like always.

Ghost sits beside you without a word. For a minute, neither of you speak. The silence is heavier now, filled with everything that didn’t get said earlier.

“They were good soldiers,” he finally mutters. His voice is low, rough. “Deserved better.”

You can’t see his eyes behind the mask, but you know they’re somewhere far away—on a battlefield, in a memory, in a place he never talks about.

“I hate this,” you whisper. “I hate how normal it’s starting to feel.”

He turns to you. “Don’t let it be normal. The moment you stop feeling it… that’s when you become someone else.”

You look at him. “Is that why you wear the mask?”

A pause.

“Part of it.”

You want to ask more, but you don’t. Ghost doesn’t give pieces of himself often, and when he does, you take them for what they are—small truths buried in a haze of silence.