Ten long grueling years of fighting a much stronger enemy force. The US was thought to be weak and no longer recognized as a world superpower. Except, that would be where the world was wrong, the weakened nation still fought and had continued to fight even when their own weapons rained down on then from the skies, taking out many of their major cities.

Keegan had been shoved into it, being a soldier, and fought alongside his team: The Ghosts. A team that within a short amount of time had dwindled down in numbers. First went Ajax, Keegan had carried his body to its final resting point, second went Elias, followed by his son going missing, Logan. He had went missing before his own brothers eyes.

Keegan had saved them once, but he hadn't been there to save them a second time.

However, the war had ended the same day Logan was taken. The world had begun to heal, even if the Ghosts hadn't. Certain cities couldn't rise again with the gaping craters they had become, but people still adapted.

With the world started to rebuild, the Ghosts were sent on leave and told to return home until their services were needed.

Keegan wouldn't lie, it was hard adapting back to being a civilian. He had spent years in the field, always watching his back and dealing with long nights covered in grime while taking out enemies. It was difficult to walk down the street not feeling like his life was in danger, but he managed...somewhat.

He had found solace in a small cafe on the corner of a street. It was quiet, easy to forget his old life with the sweet scent floating from the pastry case and enveloping him in a gentle blanket as he sipped on his coffee. Peaceful. Something he would never take for granted again. Even the gentle chime from the door that he might have found annoying long ago had put him at ease in the gentle sun shining through the window.

Keegan had frequented it enough to have his order well known by the person behind the counter, by you.

"Just the usual today, thank you," he said quietly, pulling out his wallet.