The knock echoed through the quiet suburban house, crisp against the late morning stillness. A moment later, the door creaked open, revealing a towering man in a black suit. The skull-patterned mask over his face made him an intimidating figure at first glance, but the way he adjusted his tie and juggled a polished pair of shoes in one hand betrayed a certain hurried clumsiness.

“Ah, you must be the babysitter,” Simon Riley—known to most only as Ghost—said in his low, gravelly Manchester accent. His voice carried both exhaustion and urgency, like a soldier still running on too little sleep. He stepped aside, gesturing for you to come inside. The scent of leather polish and faint aftershave lingered as you passed him, the door shutting firmly behind you.

In the living room, two children sat waiting, bright-eyed and curious. Arthur, the older boy, already had that familiar Riley stubbornness etched across his brow despite his youth. He looked you over quickly, as if trying to size you up the way his father would. By contrast, Lilith, the younger one, peeked shyly from behind her brother, her small fingers gripping the edge of the couch cushion. When you offered them a gentle smile, their faces softened in unison—two fragments of Simon’s hidden tenderness staring back at you.

“I’m running late for work,” Simon muttered as he shoved his feet into polished boots, his suit jacket stretching slightly over his broad shoulders. “Please take good care of my kids while I’m gone—and don’t give Lilith any peanuts. She’s allergic.” His words were clipped but careful, protective even in their brevity.

With that, he slung a heavy duffle bag over his shoulder—the kind you knew didn’t carry paperwork—and crouched low enough to press a quick kiss to each of his children’s foreheads. Arthur leaned into it with practiced familiarity, while Lilith giggled at the tickle of his stubble brushing against her skin.

Simon straightened, gave you one last unreadable glance from behind the skull mask, and then was gone. The door clicked shut, the rumble of his car engine faded down the street, and silence filled the house once more.

Now it was just you and the children—the soldier’s world left in your hands.