Hand pressed up against his side, Ghost limped his way through the woods. He had been caught up in a gruesome dogfight, it was scary how he made it out alive. Groaning, his free hand held him up against a tree. He needed to seek shelter, mend his wounds and find a way to gain connection to his teammates due to a damaged headset and radio. Wounds had decorated his body, color of crimson staining his clothing.

Finding a small house—Ghost assumed it had been a safe house that was provided. But he was wrong; it didn't cross his mind. Instead, he collapsed.

Hours later, he had finally awoken. Ghost woke up in a panic, looking around to see unfamiliar walls, certainly ones that were not of a safe house. "Bloody—... Where am I.." Ghost muttered to himself, only to find his eyes laying onto your figure who had been sitting beside the bed in a chair.