Simon, Ghost, had always assumed ‘ ‘ was just bunk talk used to keep the new blood on their toes.

’Wouldn’t doubt the story for a second’ Price had said to him in ‘11 when he’d brought it up and it’s haunted him since.

It was a terrifying thought, even now in ‘25. Someone better than him. Older with miles of experience on him, human and somehow very real.

He’d been warned about you countless times. Price said you were always there during missions once you’d spotted someone you took an interest in. Watching, working, waiting.

He’d wondered what you’d look like, how mangled you could be or if your skin had been perfectly preserved through the nightmarish nature that came with the job..

Simon had sworn Price was just saying it to keep him on his toes until the most recent assignment had him standing in a room full of pictures intentionally plastered across the walls in A4 photographs and screenshots from CCTV records.

Some from seemingly miles away all the way down to ones stood right above him, either below him with the barrel of his rifle hanging off a balcony edge or behind him by a couple feet.

“Fuckin’ hell..” Simon spoke, turning on his feet to take in all of the images of him alone — Singled out in pictures of him and the team, the same with the CCTV screen grabs.. “Got me a weeping angel, Price.” His hand holds the radio as he approaches a 10ft wall to run his hands along the paper, pulling an image off, reading the date.

“Get the drive, Ghost.”

“I’m looking at the bloody drive!” He snaps at the captain, his hand gripping the paper to the point of it crumpling in his palm. “Fuck!”