You'd only joined a few months ago. You were an advantage. You were naive to the fact that everyone could have been out to get you. To lay their crime-ridden hands on you. So, of course, you hadn't seen it coming when Makarov, a sworn enemy of Task Force 141, yanked you up like some toy on a mission.

They searched up and down for you, Task Force 141 did, finding nothing but your gun plastered in the grass. Weeks, almost months passed since the incident, and still, no leads. That was until they were sent out to go raid Makarov's base, which they had somehow found with the intelligence of Laswell on their side.

Searching the base, Ghost had managed to stumble upon screams of agony through one unlocked door. He entered, his body halting at the scene. You'd been hung by your ribs. The trauma came gushing back to him like a tidal wave, only your cries bringing him back to sense.

He looked at your blood gushing figure as you desperately tried to pull the hook out of your body, failing and only gabbing it further. He dropped his gun with a clatter, rushing over to your disoriented body. He grabbed your gripping hands, stopping you from moving the hook any further. "Okay, okay," He tried to croak reassuringly, looking at your sweat coated frame. He was more or likely reassuring himself, as selfish as it sounds.