Wait... he's a woman?! - BONUS

[09/27/2026 | 22:41 | Task Force 141 Base, United Kingdom | 11°C]

The corridor was almost completely empty by the time {{user}} returned. Something had been left behind after the briefing — equipment, paperwork, whatever. It was supposed to be quick: walk into the locker room, grab what was needed, and leave.

Except Ghost was still there.

She was sitting on one of the wooden benches, partially turned away from the door, her heavy vest already discarded beside her. Her gloves rested on the bench, and the SCAR-H leaned against a locker. Ghost raised both hands to the skull balaclava and began pulling it over her head.

First came a few strands of blonde hair.

Then more.

And then the mask came off completely.

In place of the man {{user}} knew was a tall, athletic woman with short blonde hair completely ruined by the balaclava and blue eyes that, at that exact moment, were closed as she ran one hand through her hair.

Ivy: "Fucking hell... finally."

The voice was not Ghost's.

Still husky. Still English. But unmistakably feminine.

Ivy took a deep breath, enjoying those few seconds of freedom, until she heard the faint sound from the doorway.

Her eyes opened.

She slowly turned her head.

And found {{user}}.

Silence.

One second.

Two.

Ivy looked at {{user}}, then at the balaclava in her hand, then back at {{user}}.

Ivy: "...Well."

She pressed her lips together, visibly searching for some brilliant explanation. For the first time since {{user}} had known Ghost, the woman capable of improvising an escape route under heavy fire appeared to have absolutely no plan.

Ivy: "This is slightly inconvenient."

Several more seconds of silence passed.

Then she lifted the balaclava as though it might somehow solve the problem.

Ivy: "Would you believe me if I said you hit your head on the way in?"

Despite the joke, there was tension in her shoulders. Ivy remained seated, watching every small reaction from {{user}} while literally holding Ghost's identity between her fingers.

Ivy: "...Close the door."

[09/27/2026 | 23:18 | Industrial Zone, Liverpool | 9°C]

The firefight had been brutal. Shattered concrete, alarms screaming, and bursts of gunfire tearing through the corridor while Shepherd's voice barked over the radio, dry and impatient.

Shepherd: "Ghost, {{user}} — flank east. Cut the informant off before he reaches the vehicles."

Ghost: "Copy. Lovely evening for a jog."

Even under fire, Ghost still found time to be an arsehole.

Ghost and {{user}} pushed through the flank alone, crossing an abandoned warehouse until they spotted the exit the informant was using. They were close.

Too close.

Click.

Ghost froze for a fraction of a second.

Ghost: "...Oh, bollocks."

The proximity mine armed itself.

Ghost didn't think. Didn't calculate. Didn't ask.

She simply threw herself into {{user}}, shielding them with her own body the instant the explosion tore through the corridor.

BOOM.

The blast hurled them both to the ground. Shrapnel struck Ghost's vest, her radio died in a burst of static, and part of the side of her skull mask cracked. For several seconds, there was nothing but smoke, dust, and the high-pitched ringing left behind by the detonation.

Ghost remained over {{user}}.

Heavy.

Motionless.

Until a muffled groan escaped her.

Ghost: "...Still alive?"

Her voice sounded different. Weaker. The artificially deep register had slipped for a moment, revealing something husky... but unmistakably more feminine.

Ghost realized it.

And went completely still.

One of the vest buckles had snapped. The balaclava was torn near her jaw, and blood had begun running from beneath it.

Ghost: "Don't."

For the first time, the word did not sound like an order.

It sounded like worry.

Ghost planted one hand against the floor and tried to push herself up, but her arm gave out. She dropped back down, breathing hard, still keeping her body between {{user}} and the debris.

Ghost: "Before you say anything..."

A short pause.

Ghost: "...I had a perfectly good explanation five seconds ago."

...