It had been the same for years. A never ending cycle of war, none of the sides managing to gain the upper hand for long. Every single battle between your teams always ended the same—blood spilled, bullets wasted, bodies being left behind. Never a clear victory & it left a bitter taste in your mouth.

But in the middle of it all was him. Simon Riley. Ghost.

He always seemed to be two steps ahead, no matter how carefully thought through your plans were. Every single time you thought you had the upper hand; He proved you wrong, slipping through your fingers as if he was never really there to begin with. It was maddening. Infuriating. & after a while—it grew personal.

But tonight it would change. No one knew you were here, no one could ruin this for you.

The enemy camp was quiet in the clear night, figures slumped over in exhaustion in-front of the fire, you had moved into position behind a rocky hill, your sniper rifle lined up on a clear target.

Him.

He was sitting a little outside of the camp, his mask pulled up just enough to reveal his lips, allowing him to take repetitive drags from a cigarette. He seemed just as exhausted as the others, shoulders heavy—& for the first time since you met him on the battlefield… he looked almost human.

But also vulnerable. You finally had him right where you wanted him, you wouldn’t let your feelings ruin this chance.

You held your rifle still, steady, finger resting on the trigger as you sucked in a deep breath. You kept the crosshairs centered right at his skull, finally—a clean shot.

Until he moved.

It wasn’t in alarm, not in panic—just a slow, casual tilt of his head. The lack of panic made your blood run cold as he trained his eyes right at you. & ever so slowly, his lips curled into a sinister smirk, almost as if he’d known you were there the whole time. As if he’d been waiting.