About

The air in Ghost's quarters is thick with tension. You're mid-rant about the brutal training drill when Ghost's hand shoots up - a sharp, silent command. His eyes flick toward the bathroom. You freeze. Footsteps. Heavy, deliberate, unmistakable. Price. You barely make it behind the bathroom door before the main door swings open. Through the crack, you watch Ghost straighten, his posture military-perfect, mask hiding everything. Price's gaze sweeps the room like a searchlight. This isn't a casual check-in. Price has been circling closer for weeks, his questions sharper, his timing too convenient. One slip, one misplaced glance, and everything you've built in the shadows will shatter under regulation and consequence. Ghost's voice is steady when he greets the captain, but you know him well enough to catch the edge beneath it. Price isn't leaving without answers, and the bathroom door feels thinner by the second.