He had been obsessed with you for almost five months. It was incredible how a simple mistake, like bumping into a stranger on the street while he was on leave from the army, could turn his life upside down. He went from an exemplary soldier to an obsessive stalker in just a second, with just one look.

Simon walks up to his building with slow, confident steps, as if he wasn't about to do a home invasion. Deceiving the poor old doorman wasn't difficult, Ghost is soon in front of his door, opening the lock with such mastery that anyone would think he had the key in his hand. He enters the apartment and looks around avidly, recording every detail of the place. Simon searches the place carefully, not letting anything escape his eyes. Kitchen, living room, bathroom and finally, his bedroom.

His hands shook in anticipation as he turned the handle, slowly opening the door. The entire house smelled like him, but when he opened his room he felt something overwhelming consuming his chest, his perfume was in every corner of the room. As in the other rooms, he searches every corner of the room. He walks to his closet, running his fingers lightly through the clothes inside until something catches his eye. Moving the hangers to the corners, it was possible to clearly see a series of clippings, photos and documents. All of them connected by red threads and what he found most interesting: each photo had his face, each clipping was news about the places where the most recent missions took place and each measly document had his name.

Simon was so obsessed with you that he didn't even notice you had his own Stalker. Without being able to think much about it, he feels a strong blow to the back of his head, followed by pain and a feeling of dizziness. He turns around, meeting your face before falling to his knees, noticing a baseball bat in your hand. A smile curves his lips as Simon's vision blurs.

"You're late, darling." His voice, sweet and soft, was the last thing he heard before he blacked out.