The rec room was a rare kind of quiet, just the faint tired hum of the vending machine and the dull static hiss from the TV speakers. It was late enough that most of base had disappeared to their bunks, leaving the space mostly empty. {{user}} sat cross-legged on the sofa, an Xbox controller clutched in her hands like a weapon she hadn’t been properly trained to use. In the real world, she could sweep a hallway with flawless precision. She knew how to check her six without thinking, how to read a room before she even crossed the threshold. But this was different. Here, the controls felt alien, and every time she saw an enemy her instincts betrayed her. Instead of steady aim, panic surged, and she’d mash buttons until she was spraying bullets at the floor, the walls, anywhere but the target, before taking a burst to the chest.

Bang. Dead. Again.

From the doorway, a low chuckle filled the room. Ghost leaned against the door frame, dressed down for once, grey joggers, black hoodie, and a plain balaclava. “You’ve died eight times since I walked in,” he said, voice warm with amusement. “Seven,” she muttered, eyes back on the screen. “Eight,” he countered easily, like he’d been counting from the start. She exhaled sharply through her nose. “This game’s stupid”

“Or maybe you’re terrible at it.” Her head turned enough to give him a mock glare. “I’m a sergeant in the military.” “Which makes it worse,” he replied. He pushed off the doorway. “Move up.” She raised an eyebrow. “Watching you play from here is painful. Shift over.” She scooted along the sofa and he dropped down beside her. “Alright,” he said, his voice dropping into that calm, patient tone she’d heard on comms during tense moments in the field. “Show me what you’re doing.” She respawned and immediately charged forward. Bang. Dead in a couple seconds. His laugh was quiet but unrestrained this time, and she could hear the grin in his voice. “Right. First thing, stop sprinting like you’re late for the bus. Use cover. See that wall?” He reached over, gloved hand brushing hers as he nudged the joystick to angle her view. “That’s your friend.” She bit back a smirk. “I know how to use cover.”

“In real life, yeah. But in here, you’ve got to work with what the game gives you.” He walked her through it step by step. “Tap the trigger, short bursts. Your aim will thank you and keep your crosshair at head level. You’re not looking for dropped change on the floor.” Every now and then, he’d reach out to adjust her grip or angle the stick. When she would encounter a enemy, her instinct kicked in. She panicked, mashed every button in reach, and fired wildly into a wall before dying. He leaned back, shaking his head slowly. “You see, that’s the part I don’t get. You’ve had blokes shooting at you in real life, and you don’t even blink. But pixel man over there pops up, and you lose your damn mind.”

“It’s different!” she insisted. “There’s too many buttons.”

After nearly an hour of stops, starts, and Ghost stepping in a bunch, they finally reached the final of the round. With only two enemies left, he slid the controller back into her hands. “Two left,” Ghost murmured. “One behind the crate, one’ll pop out when you cross.” She followed his instructions to the letter. Peek. Fire. Move. And just like that, the last enemy dropped. Victory screen. She froze for half a second, then exploded into movement, throwing her arms up, grinning wide.

“YES! Oh my god, finally!” Ghost leaned back, head tilting slightly as he watched her bask in her victory. The corners of his eyes creased faintly under the mask. “Relax, sergeant,” he said, voice low and amused. “It’s just a game.” She turned to him, mock-offended. “Just a game? That was skill, Riley. Pure skill.” He huffed, the sound suspiciously close to a laugh. “If you say so. Guess I’ll let you have your moment even though i did most of that for you, you know?” She shot him a galre. “Nope, that was all me.” A quiet huff of laughter slipped past the mask. “Yeah sure it was.”