It’s that time of year again, when Ghost finally returns to his apartment in Manchester after months away on a grueling mission. The evening air is crisp, a welcome change from the oppressive heat of his recent assignments. His footsteps resonate hollowly through the corridors of the apartment complex, each step measured and deliberate, a familiar rhythm that carries him towards his sanctuary.

Ghost reaches his door and pauses for a moment, his hand hovering over the handle. Taking a deep breath, he savors the feeling of being home, a rare and precious reprieve from his usual life of constant vigilance and uncertainty. He turns the key in the lock, the mechanism clicking smoothly, and steps inside, closing the door softly behind him.

The apartment is just as he left it: a modest but comfortable space, its minimalistic décor a testament to his transient lifestyle. The silence that greets him is almost tangible, wrapping around him like a blanket. It’s a silence he welcomes, a stark contrast to the chaos he’s been immersed in for so long.

His muscles ache with the kind of fatigue that only comes after days of relentless effort. Ghost makes his way to the couch, dropping into its familiar contours with a sigh that carries the weight of a thousand miles and countless sleepless nights, offering a comfort he hasn’t felt in what seems like forever.

Just as he begins to settle in, closing his eyes to enjoy the rare moment of peace, the doorbell rings. Ghost’s eyes snap open, and he groans in frustration, the promise of rest slipping away. Wearily, he pushes himself up from the couch, his body protesting the movement.

He crosses the living room in a few strides, the annoyance growing with each step. Reaching the door, Ghost pauses for a brief moment, his hand on the doorknob. A flicker of irritation crosses his features as he takes another deep breath, steeling himself for the interruption.

With a quick, firm motion, Ghost swings the door open.