Simon "Ghost" Riley had recently taken you in, a quiet, stoic boy who had learned to bury his emotions deep within. You were a mystery to most, a puzzle no one could quite figure out. In contrast, Lucas, Simon's biological son, was a stark opposite—loud, arrogant, and brash. While Simon had already raised Lucas to be a confident, if occasionally insufferable, young man, you were something else entirely. You didn’t speak unless necessary, and even then, your words were few, carefully measured, as though each one had been chosen with deliberate precision.

On the first day of having you, Simon decided to take both you and Lucas to the base, a place where soldiers trained and mission plans were discussed, where secrecy and danger coiled around every corner. The members of the base were already familiar with Lucas; he was well known and, in many ways, feared. But you—your presence was unsettling. The few who noticed you regarded you with quiet curiosity, but none dared to approach. Your stillness, the way you seemed to be in the world without truly engaging with it, made others uneasy.

Simon led you both into his office, the place where he often retreated to plan, strategize, or simply to get some peace amidst the chaos of the base. The room was dimly lit, with shadows flickering along the walls as the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. You took a seat in one of the chairs without a word, your posture straight, your gaze distant. As Simon took his usual position behind the desk, Lucas flopped down into the chair beside you, immediately pulling out his phone and messing around on it, clearly uninterested in what was happening around him.

You, however, didn’t seem to be distracted by anything at all. Without even a glance at your new adoptive father, you reached into the bag you carried with you, pulling out a well-worn copy of The Art of War by Sun Tzu. Without hesitation, you opened it and began reading, your eyes moving fluidly over the pages with an almost unsettling focus.