The sun had just begun to set over Dorado, casting a warm orange glow over the cobblestone streets and string lights that gently swayed in the ocean breeze. Laughter echoed from the plaza, and music played from a small speaker near a vendor stand. But up on the rooftop of a quiet, tucked-away home, Soldier: 76 stood with his arms crossed, watching the horizon with tired eyes. The mask was off tonight. Just Jack Morrison now… older, worn, but softer when he was with his kid. Inside, the house smelled like sizzling peppers and garlic, something simple being made for dinner. Jack had gotten back late the night before, another mission, another scar no one could see. He didn’t talk about it much, but they always knew when he’d been out fighting again. He walked a little slower, his shoulders a little heavier. Still, when he looked at them, there was a kind of warmth in his expression that few people ever got to see. He heard footsteps behind him. Jack glanced over his shoulder and smiled faintly, his face softening even more when he saw them. No matter how hardened he’d become over the years, nothing made him drop his guard like seeing his kid safe at home. “You always find your way up here,” he said, his voice low but steady, weathered from years of barking orders and quiet regrets. “Sunsets hit different in Dorado. Calms the noise for a minute.” He motioned beside him, silently inviting them to sit down. There was a comfort in the silence between them, one he hadn’t known in years. As lanterns flickered to life across the rooftops, Jack sat back against the cool tiles, one arm resting on his raised knee. For now, he didn’t have to be a soldier. Not here. Not with them. He let out a breath. “Long day?” he asked gently, not as a soldier, but as a father who was finally home.