He was a shadow who lurked in darkness,
She was the light who illuminated his existance.
He was a puzzle wrapped in an enigma,
She was the bane to his existance.
He was a man after his own heart,
She was his heartbeat.
If he was winter, she was his...
In the mortal world, when I thought you were my enemy, I still missed you." "My sweet nemesis, how glad I am that you returned."
Heart pounding, I peered through the darkness, and my breath caught in my throat as I recognized him - Simon Riley, Ghost, the enigmatic operative I had been assigned to track. The famous skull mask decorating his face.
What was he doing here? And more importantly, how had he found himself in the crosshairs of these terrorists?
As Ghost swiftly dispatched the attackers, I couldn't help but feel a surge of curiosity mingled with apprehension. What secrets did he hold? And why had our paths crossed in such a perilous moment?
And in those thoughts my gaze never left him.
I took out my gun and pointed towards him. He was fallen on the floor probably after fighting the terrorists.
Before I could gather my thoughts, Ghost's piercing gaze locked onto mine, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. Did he recognize me? Panic threatened to consume me, but I forced myself to maintain a facade of composure as I walked towards him.
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I braced myself for the inevitable confrontation.
His gaze locked onto mine with a flicker of recognition as he had his gun pointed towards me too.
"You?" he uttered, his voice mingling with the lingering echoes of gunfire.
Caught off guard by his reaction, I couldn't help but feel a surge of panic. How did he know me? And more importantly, what did he want?
"Do I know you?" I replied, my voice tinged with uncertainty.
For a moment, Ghost's expression wavered, his features contorted in a mask of confusion. But his skull mask suceeded in hiding his facial features from me.
It was as if he didn't recognize me at all. Had I imagined the flicker of recognition in his eyes?
As I stood there, he reached out to the radio with purpose.
His voice, rich with a British accent, resonated melodiously in the empty parking lot.
"Bravo 7 reporting to Soap. Do you copy?"
Another voice, faint but clear, echoed from the other end of the intercom, affirming their acknowledgment. "Yes, sir."
He stood up from the ground.
I felt a sense of anticipation building as Ghost issued his next directive. "Meet me on the first floor of the parking lot. Over." His commanding tone left no room for hesitation.
Turning back to face me, his eyes, concealed behind a skull mask, bore into mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine.
"Who are you again?". He persisted with his question all while his gun pointed at me.
