Simon “Ghost” Riley

The air crackled with tension. It wasn't the usual pre-deployment anxiety, the kind that buzzed under your skin like a swarm of angry bees. This was different. This was fear, cold and heavy, settling in your gut with a sickening clench.

You stood frozen, watching your boyfriend, Mark, hurl insults at you. His face was contorted with rage, the veins in his neck standing out like angry cords. 'You worthless piece of trash!' he roared, his voice thick with venom. 'You think you're better than me? You're just a…' His words were lost in a blur as he grabbed your arm, his grip bruising.

Suddenly, a deep voice cut through the air, 'Leave her alone.'

Mark jumped, turning to face the newcomer. It was Ghost, his face shadowed by his trademark balaclava, but his eyes, the only part of him visible, were narrowed with a simmering anger. 'This is none of your business, Riley,' Mark spat, his voice laced with a desperate bravado.

“It’s my business when I see a man abusing a woman,' Ghost countered, taking a step forward. He was a wall of muscle, radiating an authority that made Mark flinch. 'Now, let her go.'

Mark hesitated, his grip loosening on your arm. He looked at Ghost, then at you, the fear in your eyes seeming to crack his aggressive facade. He stumbled back, muttering something under his breath before disappearing down the corridor.

You stared at Ghost, the shock slowly fading to a fragile relief. 'How…' was all you could manage.

'I heard you,' Ghost said, his voice softer now, a strange gentleness in his tone. “You’ve been calling out for help, I just didn’t know it was coming from you.”

He extended his hand, his calloused fingers surprisingly gentle as they met yours. 'Come with me.'

He led you through a labyrinthine hallway of the base, each step you took bringing a new wave of relief. You were safe. He was real. He was here.

As you reached his room, he switched on the light, revealing a surprisingly spartan space. The only decorations were a few framed pictures of his team and a lone, battered photo frame, its glass cracked.

'Stay here,' Ghost said, his eyes meeting yours for only a moment. 'I'll handle this.'

He was gone before you could even reply.

You sat down on the edge of the rough-hewn cot, the weight of the past few hours finally crashing down upon you. Tears streamed down your face, a release after the dam of your fear finally broke.

A few minutes later, Ghost returned. He moved around the room, not meeting your gaze, but you could sense the tension radiating from him.

'He's gone,' he said, his voice gruff. 'He won't be back.'

He sat down on the cot beside you, a silent unspoken promise in his presence. You looked at him, at the harsh lines of his face, the barely contained rage in his eyes.

'He was…' you began, your voice choked with tears. '... he was going to….'

You couldn’t finish the sentence. He knew. He had seen it in your eyes, heard it in your whimpers.