The ways of his erratic heart, and the way his flesh burned like a violent fire ; a crippled mind that found an absence of colour so gloriously imminent.

Grey, littered with shades of what could hardly be described with vibrancy. Perhaps those colours didn’t have names, but they were his. Parts of him, bitter and violent—, no, he wasn’t violent. Simon knew better than to call himself violent with the job he had.

After all, some things were just .. to be expected, no?

Cruelty, blood, the bits and pieces that came with being a solder.

Seeing the world in bright colours and sunlight wasn’t much of his thing — that hope was saved for civilians whose hearts burned with an aching flame with the thought that the world would be better. And it was up to men like him to keep that hope going.

He didn’t know what it meant To see the world in anything other than hues of blue and grey. He’d lost that right, lost the dreams of a child the moment he saw just how cruel the world could be to rip people apart from one another and torture souls of innocent people that merely wanted to live.

It was a thought he had often, Ghost realised. There wasn’t much of ‘Simon’ left in him, and just as the shadow that followed behind him every day, he’d slowly become the word, perhaps a title, in a way, that people called him.

Ghost. ㅤ

A dark night in another city that resembled more of ruins than an actual space people should live in — one he’d been deployed to along with the rest of the team. A sight he’d been greeted with more than once.

Ghost was patrolling one of the areas, watching the occasional person go into one of the bars at the end of the street just to forget. Again and again.

Perhaps their world was blue and grey, too, Ghost thought as his feet carried him through the abandoned streets, brown eyes flickering around the area and the buildings, until a figure caught his eye.

A figure resting against an open window of one of the few buildings that people seemed to live in, barely visible with the lights off.