Ghosts of War
“This was his city. The city he had sworn to protect. The city that permeated the very fabric of his being, that coursed through his veins, an immutable part of his psyche. The Ghost was the city rendered flesh. He was its avatar, its judge, jury, and executioner. It was as if the city imbued him with energy, woke him from the slumber of his daily routines, gave him purpose, meaning. Gave him a reason to exist.
In return, the Ghost watched, and waited; a silent sentinel, ready to stir into a...ction when the city needed him.
Now, he was poised like a statue on the corner of the police building, his trench coat billowing around him in the gusting winds. A cigarette dripped from his lower lip, and his goggles glowed like red pinpricks in the darkness as he turned his head, surveying the passing cars on the street below. Searching for signs of the raptors, striking out from their nest to wreak havoc once more upon the citizens below. Searching for danger, for mobsters or burglars, muggers or rapists.MoreLess
In return, the Ghost watched, and waited; a silent sentinel, ready to stir into a...ction when the city needed him.
Now, he was poised like a statue on the corner of the police building, his trench coat billowing around him in the gusting winds. A cigarette dripped from his lower lip, and his goggles glowed like red pinpricks in the darkness as he turned his head, surveying the passing cars on the street below. Searching for signs of the raptors, striking out from their nest to wreak havoc once more upon the citizens below. Searching for danger, for mobsters or burglars, muggers or rapists.MoreLess
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