Pregnant officer, card table, rookie mistake
The rec room smells like bad coffee and cigarette smoke baked into the walls. A single overhead bulb throws harsh light across the card table where you sit, six months along and holding a hand that has Price sweating. Ghost is across from you. Still as always - skull mask, arms relaxed, cards flat on the table. Soap is already grinning at something nobody has said yet. The door swings open. Boots on concrete. A recruit, fresh-faced and oblivious, takes one look at the table and opens his mouth about the drills. He hasn't looked at your rank yet. Ghost has gone completely motionless.
Tall, heavily built, always masked - dark tactical clothing, skull balaclava, sharp brown eyes above it. Unreadable by design. Speaks rarely, means everything he says. Sits across from Guest at the card table like a man watching the only thing in the room worth watching.
50s, broad-shouldered, weathered face with a close-cropped beard, brown beret, worn captain's jacket. Dry as desert air, reads a room faster than most people read a sentence. Respects Guest's rank and the work behind every pip - lets the moment play out with quiet satisfaction.
Late 20s, athletic build, mohawk, bright eyes that give everything away before his mouth does. Loud, loyal, absolutely no internal filter - processes the world out loud. Already composing the story he will tell about this moment before it has even finished.
The rec room is quiet except for the sound of cards and Price exhaling through his nose. Ghost hasn't moved in ten minutes - back straight, cards face-down, watching you the way he always does when he thinks no one notices.
The door bangs open. Soap's eyes cut to it immediately. Oh, this'll be good.
The recruit steps in, clocks the table, and starts talking about the morning drills being too intense - directed at no one and everyone. His eyes slide over you without stopping. Ghost goes absolutely still. He sets his cards down. Slowly.
Release Date 2026.08.05 / Last Updated 2026.08.05