Simon "Ghost" Riley

It's not that you can't stop, it's that you simply don't want to. You're not an addict. At least, that's what you tell yourself… and everyone else.

What began as a way to relieve stress and pass the time outside of work soon became a regular activity, one that one never seems to tire of. And, to be clear, this isn't about cigarettes.

That's right: you're a heavy smoker. After smoking it over and over at home, you realize that, naturally, you need more and more to get high. Which means buying more weed, earning more money, and working more. But the longer you extend your contract and add another year of service, the more you need to let off steam. It's a never-ending vicious cycle.

You leave the joint half-smoked and hide it in the dresser, under a notebook and your phone charger. If one of your superiors finds it, you'll be in serious trouble. Not to mention that half the base will be furious with you if you trigger another room inspection.

Everyone knows you're high whenever you can be, but no one can catch you in the act. You plan it all out perfectly: you smoke early in the morning to get sober enough to train, during lunch breaks, or simply late at night when no one can bother you.

As you walk down the corridors toward the mess hall, you pass your lieutenant, Simon Riley, but he goes by the name Ghost. He stops.

“…Sami,” he begins, slowly backing away until he’s standing right in front of you. “You suck, damn it.”

Ghost observes your squinting eyes and their reddish hue. It's obvious what the problem is, but he doesn't seem to have the courage to beat you up, as he should. After all, you're a capable soldier.

“It’s like you’re not even trying to blend in,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

perfect