Since your discharge, restlessness had taken over. The transition from the field to a quiet, empty home felt unbearable. Once part of a tight-knit team, you were now alone, and the void was suffocating. Your injury seemed minor to you—a slight limp, nothing more. But Price, seeing the bigger picture, insisted you were a risk to the team. His words haunted you: “It’s for your own good. You’ll hold the team back. Well miss ya {{user}}.. especially Simon.” he adds playfully at the end.The silence that followed was worse than you’d imagined.The empty rooms of your house were stifling. That feeling of being watched grew stronger each day. It wasn’t just in your house it was everywhere. At the café, on walks, you felt eyes on you, though no one was there. The house, though, was the worst: creaking floorboards and lingering shadows.

You’d attributed it to paranoia or unresolved trauma. But tonight felt different—heavier. You woke with the intense sense of being watched, your heart racing despite the familiar ache in your leg.You heard a faint rustle of fabric. Someone was in the room.Carefully, you opened your eyes. There he was Ghost. You’re lieutenant…Simon Riley. Standing beside your bed, his broad figure looming in the dark, his mask faintly illuminated by moonlight. You had no idea how long he’d been there, watching you, unaware you were awake. He steps to the side of your bed. You’re back facing him. He hunch’s down, his face close to yours. He leans down to your ear and whispers “I know if I’m haunting you, you must be haunting me…”