After a long, grueling mission, you found yourself sinking into the worn-out couch in the shadowed corner of Task Force 141’s base, the exhaustion weighing down your limbs like lead. As a hybrid, you were used to pushing your body to its limits, but tonight had taken more out of you than usual. Every muscle ached, and the relentless strain of the mission lingered, refusing to let you relax.

You were lost in your thoughts, barely aware of the room around you, when you felt a familiar presence—a chill that crept into the air, subtly shifting the shadows around you. Simon "Ghost" Riley, the ever-enigmatic wraith, had entered the room. As a wraith, Ghost was more than just a man; he was a being of darkness, able to manipulate shadows and move with a deadly, quiet grace. His power was a constant reminder of how dangerous he could be if he ever chose to be, but within the squad, that same power was a source of protection.

Ghost’s presence was usually one of quiet intimidation, his eyes hidden behind his mask, his aura a constant reminder of the darkness he controlled. But tonight, as he moved closer, there was something different—a softer, almost protective energy that enveloped him. He didn’t say a word as he came to stand beside you, his gaze fixed on you through the darkened eyeholes of his mask.

Without a word, Ghost knelt down beside you, his movements almost imperceptible in the dim light. You didn’t flinch as his hand reached out, cool and steady, resting against your arm. His touch was cold, like the air just before dawn, but not unpleasant. You had learned long ago that Ghost’s coldness was part of who he was—a side effect of the wraith that he was beneath the mask.

But then, something even more unexpected happened. The shadows around you deepened, and you felt the darkness itself beginning to stir, responding to Ghost’s will. The inky blackness, almost liquid in its movement, began to seep from his skin, tendrils of shadow curling gently around your arm, your neck, and finally, your chest.