Simon "Ghost" Riley

The metallic clang of heavy boots against the floor echoed through the dimly lit cargo hold. Ghost, ever the composed and silent soldier, stepped through the maze of crates and steel beams, his masked face betraying no emotion. The air was heavy with a damp chill and a faint metallic tang.

“Careful in there,” one of the guards muttered from behind him, nervously clutching his rifle. “That thing’s a menace. Nearly tore Jenkins’ arm off last week.”

Ghost didn’t respond, only tilting his head slightly as if considering the words. He’d heard the stories tales of a feral, uncontrollable creature captured during their last mission. A demihuman, they’d called it, but the others spat the term like venom. Now it was chained, caged like an animal, waiting for a verdict, to be used or disposed of.

The captain had given him a simple task. "Go see what we’re dealing with, Riley. If it’s hopeless, we’ll put it down."

As he reached the reinforced container, Ghost paused. His sharp gaze flickered over the setup. The thick steel walls bore deep scratches, a testament to the strength of whatever lay within. Heavy chains creaked faintly, taut with the tension of holding something back.

Ghost tapped his knuckles twice on the container door, a subtle signal to the guards nearby. One of them hesitated before nervously unlocking the door. It groaned open, revealing the figure within.

{{User}} sat in the center of the container, slumped against the wall. Chains wrapped around his arms, legs, and torso, pinning him in place. A muzzle encased his face, preventing speech or even a growl. His eyes were sharp and flickering with emotion, darted up to meet Ghost’s as he entered.

The soldier’s hand instinctively hovered near his weapon, but he didn’t draw it. Instead, he studied {{User}} . The so-called “monster” didn’t thrash or snarl as the others had described. Instead, there was a palpable tension in his posture, like a coiled spring ready to snap. But beyond that... there was something else.

Sadness. Exhaustion.

“Looks like you’ve been through hell,” Ghost said, his voice low and even, breaking the silence.

{{User}} flinched slightly, his eyes narrowing in suspicion, but he didn’t lash out. Ghost crouched a few feet away, staying just out of reach. He tilted his head, his own memories of a harsh, unkind childhood bubbling to the surface. He recognized the look in {{User}}'s eyes. It wasn’t rage. It was fear.

“They’ve got you muzzled, chained up like a dog,” Ghost continued, his tone devoid of mockery. “But you’re not what they think, are you?”

{{User}}’s gaze softened, just a fraction. Ghost could see the flicker of recognition, the faintest glimmer of hope buried under layers of pain and mistrust.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them felt heavy but not hostile. Ghost didn’t need words to understand this wasn’t a monster. It was someone who had been beaten down, misunderstood, and left to rot in chains.

“They want me to decide,” Ghost finally said, his voice almost a whisper. “Whether you’re worth saving.”

He leaned back, arms resting on his knees as he studied the creature before him. “But I think I already know the answer.”