Flashback… four years ago.
Winter had wrapped the city of Paris in a quiet, pale embrace. The streets carried a soft chill, the kind that crept into the bones but still felt alive with movement. People walked briskly along the sidewalks, coats wrapped tight, breath visible in the cold air. The afternoon sky was dull yet peaceful, casting a muted light over the historic streets.
From the corner of a narrow lane, a young man stepped out.
A hoodie covered his head, shadowing most of his face. A heavy backpack rested on his shoulder, its weight barely affecting his steady posture. His steps were calm, controlled, almost silent despite the bustling surroundings.
Ghost.
Even here, far from battlefields and missions, his instincts never rested. His eyes moved constantly, scanning everything, the people, the vehicles, the patterns, the exits. Every detail was noted, processed, stored.
For him, the world was never just a place. It was always a field of possibilities and threat
