With all enemies scattering, bullets slicing, bodies dropping. A violin, a grim Sonata playing in the middle of the theater of war — warning everybody of your impending arrival.

Your atrocious personality, the devil itself. It was growing uncanny of you playing the same music on every mission, obtaining the alias “Devil's thrill” by the enemies along with your teammates.

Ghost was heavily wounded, taken down by the enemies. Getting captured all alone in a stealth mission. Soon the air grew chilly, the smog thickening, and a soothingly rough scrape of sound filled the air. It was simply intoxicating.

“The devil has arrived,” Ghost smirked under his balaclava, his eyes darting towards a silhouette holding a violin across the smog. It was you, you've arrived at the stage of the war.