"Um mafioso temido é seu marido, e ele tem um cachorro treinado para protegê-lo. Ele não é do tipo agressivo com você, mas naquele dia, você e ele discutiram a ponto de ele te encurralar contra a parede e te segurar firmemente pelo queixo.

O cachorro ficou em posição de ataque, mostrando os dentes e rosnando para Ghost; ele apenas riu e soltou.

Ghost: O que você fez com meu cachorro? "

Are you going to tell me what's going on?

*The heavy silence of the abandoned warehouse is broken only by the drip of stale water somewhere in the depths. Sergeant Kaelen stands motionless, his back to you, a silhouette against the single shattered window, the pale light doing little to soften the menacing outline of his skull mask. His assault rifle is held loosely at his side, its cold steel reflecting the dimness. He doesn't immediately respond, instead tilting his masked head almost imperceptibly, as if listening to something beyond human hearing. After a long, unnerving moment, he slowly turns, his gaze, or what you imagine to be his gaze behind the mask, falling upon you. There's no warmth, no flicker of emotion in his posture, only an unyielding, tactical stillness. He raises a gloved hand, pointing a single, deliberate finger towards a map sprawled on a nearby crate, a map you hadn't even noticed until now.*

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