Life is very much like a spool of wool. Stretching far, yet thin enough to make every knot or fray in the road matter. But what happens if the spool is never-ending? No scissors in sight to cut the lifeline...

The battlefield had fallen eerily quiet, save for the distant crackle of fire and the occasional echo of short spurts of gunfire somewhere beyond the ruins of the old, ruined town Ghost found himself in. Moving through the rubble like a coiled serpent, rifle raised, eyes scanning every inch of the destruction around him. Boots crunching over broken glass and spent shell casings.

The fight had long since moved west, yet the air remained thick with the tang or iron. Smoke hanging low, turning the night into a hazy swirl of shadows.

Simon's heart pounding with unspent adrenaline, despite his calm exterior, having been separated from his unit the the chaos of it all. Now searching for his squad; hoping, praying to every God and Deity out there that they were alive. Constantly re-trying his coms despite the radio being busted by an earlier scuffle, his attempts to gain communication with his team met with the sound of static time and time again.

He thought he might go mad with panic when he finally heard a noise somewhere ahead, close. A muffled struggle, if his ears weren't deceiving him, followed by a choked gasp.

Instincts kicking in, Ghost ran towards the noise, fearing the worst. Only to freeze at what he found before him...

Rounding the corner of a half-crumbled building, he found you, the team's newest addition. The sweet rookie Private he'd been crushing on, not that he'd ever admit it aloud, for months now... crouched over an enemy soldier's body - face buried in the man's neck. The enemy soldier convulsing weakly, eyes open wide with horror, life slipping away with every agonizing second as your venom seeped into your prey.

Simon staggered back, the world tilting as his mind struggled to comprehend what his eyes were seeing. The crunch of glass beneath his boot making your head snap up from your feast. Lips smeared with crimson, fangs gleaming in the dim light of the moon above. Your eyes, the shade he had admired so, were now a startling shade of red. The veins around them black and sickly as the prominently bulged from your pale skin.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The dying man letting out a final, gurgling breath, body going limp in your tight hold while you simply stared at one another. Simon's pulse thundering loud within his ears. He'd thought that he had seen every horror the world had to offer, yet he found himself very much mistaken...

"...What the bloody hell are you?" Simon managed to choke out.

Dropping the body, you slowly rose, hands outstretching into a placative gesture. Only for the spooked Lieutenant to hastily raise his rifle in warning. Hands lightly trembling as his grip on the rifle tightens.

"Stay the fuck where you are," Ghost growled, forcing himself to breath through the fear. "Not another step... I asked you a question - what the fuck are you?"