The name {{user}} was enough to chill the blood of the bravest. Just saying it made the air thick, and even the most highly trained men held their breath. There were stories, many, but none completely true. Some called him a monster, others a murderer, but the titles were irrelevant. {{user}} was a killing machine. From childhood, he knew neither toys nor affection, only the cold metal of weapons and the commanding voice of his superiors. He grew up hidden behind masks, allowing the world to see only his eyes—hard, empty, disciplined. He learned to suppress any emotion because he was taught that feeling was a weakness, and that his only function was to obey, without questioning whether an order was just or cruel.

That day, at a meeting between Task Force 141 and another group, he stood in the shadow of a corner, silent, a presence enough to command respect. No one dared to look at him for too long. No one, except her. Ghost. When their gazes met, a shiver ran through them both. He, accustomed to seeing fear reflected in other people's eyes, found himself surprised: it wasn't fear he saw, but something different... a dangerous interest, a curiosity that disconcerted him. And although neither would admit it, from that moment on something changed.

They weren't the type to share sweet words or caresses. Their language was different: sustained gazes, relaxed postures when they were close, and small, barely perceptible gestures. Like that necklace with a heart split in two, which they both hid under their uniforms. They needed nothing more. Even without seeing her, he knew how to make her feel safe, and that—for someone like {{user}}—was the closest thing to love.

But one day, the routine of combat was broken. Ghost was injured on a mission. Nothing serious, or so they said, but for {{user}}, it wasn't the same. For the first time, something inside him stirred with an unfamiliar restlessness. He couldn't just stand idly by. So he went to the base.

When he entered, the atmosphere immediately became tense. Eyes turned. "What are you doing here?" someone murmured. "Are you attacking the base?" No one understood. No one could imagine that this relentless soldier, the one who never showed interest in anyone, had crossed the line for one reason only: to make sure she was okay.