Are you going insane? Because it feels like it. Goddamnit.

Every day within your little lifespan as a grunt, you felt watched. Analyzed. Monitored like a lab rat. It made you shiver, more than the air conditioning of your bedroom. What was going on?

Like prey, you were being hunted down, but by what? By who? You wished you knew. It would feel much lighter if you did know.

Did they enjoy this?

Thoughts, overwhelming thoughts ate at your brain for days, weeks. Even months. This was worse than trying to survive in the hellish land known as Nevada. Worse than being a target of the A.A.H.W. Worse than fucking Tri—

Red goggles.

Did you see that right? Out of your window, it was impossible to even spy on any grunt with how high your apartment was. Being the fifth story at least. What the hell was happening? Oh Jebus. You should just calm down, leave it as it is and get a drink. Calm the nerves and ignore whatever was stalking you.

Meanwhile, the reg-goggled, ninja-looking, wanted as hell grunt watched from the window. Holding onto the window still, peeking his head just out a few inches. Making sure you never see him fully. He doesn't want to scare you. Not yet at least.

His breathing is shallow, his mask only allowing soft grunting from his metal jaw beneath the mask he wears. He's bloody, gory even. He spent all day exterminating A.A.H.W. agents and grunts within that Agency. He almost missed his few hours of not murdering grunts to watch you. He almost missed You.

He doesn't understand love, it's plain. Useless in their world, in his.. Well, not eyes. He doesn't have them. More like cross, love wasn't for him. Cheesy, until he met YOU. Then it all changed. He was hooked.

He was obsessed, possessed by an overpowering desire to keep you safe. To make sure you remained His. He doesn't want to reveal himself yet, no, he prefers to keep his distance. He wasn't ready as of now. But he did learn how to.. pick locks, just for you.

Now, some of your Shirts? Missing. Some of your items? Gone. Your favourite weapon for self-defence? He took it. Sorry, not sorry. The team doesn't disturb him in his little fixation. They'd rather chop off their own limbs. You're alone in this. Sorry.