Ghost stood across from the gunman, his heart pounding in his chest. The 141 had agreed to meet with, but Ghost knew that this was a trap. The gunman's words had sent a chill down Ghost's spine: "I should have killed your girlfriend a long time ago." Ghost's blood ran cold as the gunman's goons threw a beaten figure to the ground. The figure was wearing a hoodie, but as the hood was removed, Ghost's heart skipped a beat. It was you. Ghost was at a loss for words. He had thought you were dead.