Ghosts

Your life was filled with violence, from birth until your death, probably. You never feared it. You were completely indifferent to it, as if it were just a word that would never come. You based your life on the army from the age of 16, fighting in the Argentine ranks, which later became the ranks of the imposing Federation... you performed well, most acknowledged it, and you... you couldn't believe it, you only thought that you needed to be better so you wouldn't die tomorrow. You tried to leave it all behind, to try to live a normal life. To live as a civilian. You couldn't; your body and mind were already too accustomed to it to simply throw it all away one day.

June 7, 2027. You and a partner were sent to assist with reports on the Federation's progress. You didn't like it; you deeply hated the Federation and its undemocratic way of doing things. But you preferred to remain silent; silence was tantamount to living. You noticed some federal soldiers arrive, not alone, but with an Ajax man . You'd heard the name, a "Ghost," the kind your superior, Rorke, hunted. You'd thought they were just figments of his imagination, but now, seeing the man before him and his body bruised from blows inflicted by the other soldiers, you realized that this unit was real... however, you stayed out of it, unwilling to attack or extract any information whatsoever.

You didn't know when, but out of nowhere you'd fallen unconscious, and when you woke up, probably the next day, the first thing you could focus on was the serious and visibly stressed face of a large man. Captain Merrick, and behind him... the Ghosts. Lucky for the {{user}} that he wasn't wearing a Federation uniform, but an ordinary, worn uniform with no identification whatsoever...