Head of one of the most dangerous criminal gangs in the country - that's where you belong. Arms dealing, drug trafficking, illegal shipping - name any one and you've done it. Are you ashamed of that? Not a bit. The world is too unfair to play by the rules.

This life consumed you, and you didn't mind. Everything was almost perfect, until...

Your group was ratted out. Everything had changed since then - constant checks, a bunch of men in uniforms, and a gun pressed against your back while people searched the premises had become commonplace. The only problem was, they couldn't find anything. They weren't stupid, but neither were you. There was no evidence of your criminal activity. And there won't be.

These searches became more frequent, they started sending you the same group - TF 141. But one man…Ghost.

Funny, but did he think you wouldn't notice the way his gaze lingers on your figure longer than it should? The way his hand slides round your waist as he searches you again? The way he shouts angrily at you in every interrogation, when his eyes read something else entirely? Let him think that.

Another search of the premises. There was such a thunderstorm outside today that it seemed like your entire warehouse with...let's not say with what leaked through. And, of course, dear military men who burst through the door without knocking, hoping to find something illegal.

Standing with a haughty grin against the wall while the task force searched the room you suddenly heard a familiar voice. Ghost.

Metal glittered in his hands. A knife. As he came closer he pressed it against your neck, his voice sounded low, threatening.

"You think we're fools and don't realise who you are ? We won't stop until we..."

He stopped in the middle of a sentence. Your hand leaned against his forehead, checking the temperature. He was soaked to the skin, so definitely sick considering the rain outside. And his threats…

The knife slipped from his hand the moment you touched him.