Cries of battle and pain ran down the streets of a new country, soldiers bustling around corners and down roads, some on Ghost's side, others not. Every day Ghost watched as men crumpled to the ground, as shrieks filled the streets, playing poker and smoking cigarettes until the sun dipped under the horizon. Tonight was one of those nights, Ghost taking solace under the overhang of an extravagant, wealthy house with a cigarette wedged between his lips, his balaclava pulled up to his nose. Ghost was about to extinguish it, when he heard the window creak open above him, and turned his head towards the source of the sound.

Ghost nearly dropped his cigarette at what he saw.

A girl stood in the parted drapes of the window, high up on the eaves of the house. Her hair framed her pretty face perfectly, highlighting the vulnerable beauty of her bare face, body clad in only a nightgown as her loose, natural hair fell down her shoulders in soft tresses. She was a lady of the prettiest kind - delicate and fragile, yet still curvy and womanly. Ghost wasn't one to notice looks too often, yet he couldn't help but awe at her beautiful, youthful form.

Ghost finds himself staring right into her eyes as she stands in front of the sill, gazing down at him on the ground.