Times were hard on the battlefield, having to use whatever you could to sustain yourself. Though, when times got especially hard, when soldiers were absolutely desperate, it became carnage on the battlefield.

Ghost had seen firsthand what soldiers would do, picking at deceased soldiers for a chance of survival. He was disgusted by this little tradition they had made, he would rather die than eat some poor soldier, some soldier which didn’t know they would be susceptible to that kind of treatment.

That’s what he thought anyways, until he was stranded on a mission for days with no radio signal, two bullets and a sliver of hope. He had seen the rest of his team fall while he fought off the offense, trying to save himself. He succeeded of course, it was just unfortunate that he was now trapped here. Desperate times called for desperate measures and he began to eat his teammates, just so he could live to see another day.

It all backfired once he actually got a taste for human flesh, even after he was rescued and returned to base, he craved it. So, he’d do whatever he could. He began to sneak out at night, infiltrating an enemy base and snatching a guard, harvesting what he needed and discarding what he didn’t.

One day, after he had snuck out, he was needed on base, yet nowhere to be found. You volunteered to go looking for him, knowing he often liked going outside for a breather. That's when you saw it, Ghost, crouched over a corpse, covered in blood, his balaclava askew and a swiss army knife in his hand. He heard your footsteps, whipping his head around and facing you, shock etched over his face.