Ghost didn't do nothing. That's the first thing people always got wrong about him.
He wasn't lazy. He wasn't mysterious for the sake of it. He didn't brood in corners like some bad action movie anti-hero. He just... moved differently than the others. It wasn't his fault that most people only paid attention to the loudest person in the room—and that was never him.
Take tonight, for example.
The mission was over. Everyone had retreated to their corners of HQ: Volt, pacing his room and radiating enough irritation to power a small city; the newbie—he still couldn't remember her codename—probably overthinking herself into a spiral; and Scotch... well, Scotch was probably sipping whiskey and plotting the next arson-related disaster.
Ghost? Ghost was working.
Or at least that's what he told himself as he wandered the quiet corridors of HQ, his steps silent on the polished floor. He moved with purpose, but not urgency. Ghost never hurried. He didn't need to. It wasn't arrogance—it was efficiency. When you could step through walls and avoid every locked door or trap, there wasn't much that required rushing.
He phased through a door marked "Restricted Access" just because he could. The room beyond was dimly lit, the kind of place that most people would find unsettling. Rows of shelves stretched out in neat lines, filled with confiscated tech, half-finished gadgets, and random odds and ends from missions past.
Ghost wandered between the shelves, his fingers grazing over unlabeled boxes and sleek machinery. He wasn't stealing anything, not really. Just... browsing.
His hand stopped on a small black cube, no bigger than a Rubik's cube but ten times as sleek. It pulsed faintly when he picked it up, the hum so low he felt it more than heard it. A single line of light traveled down its center, and for a brief moment, the lights in the room flickered.
Ghost grinned. "Interesting."
He slipped it into his pocket and phased back out before anyone could notice his little detour.
---
On the observation deck, he leaned against the glass wall, staring out at the endless stretch of wilderness that surrounded HQ. The faint glow of the nearest city was just barely visible, a distant reminder of the world they operated in but never truly belonged to.
The air outside was calm, but HQ always felt restless at night. Maybe it was the constant hum of machines, the whispers of agents coming and going, or just the weight of everything they did here. Ghost liked the quiet, but even he could feel the tension that had settled over the building since the mission.
He thought about Volt, wound tighter than usual, his temper barely held in check. Ghost had seen him like this before—controlled but on the edge, like a thundercloud waiting to release its storm.
Then there was the newbie. She was quick, sharp, but still figuring out her place. Ghost didn't miss how she tensed up whenever she had to… well he had seen it before—agents carrying more than they let on.
"Poor kitty," he muttered, smirking to himself. "She has no idea what she's walked into."
Ghost didn't resent her, though. If anything, he felt a sliver of admiration. She'd handled herself well enough on the mission, and she wasn't afraid to ask questions, even if she didn't realize how much she didn't know yet.
He thought about her hesitation below deck, the way she had faltered for just a second before regaining her footing. It wasn't a big deal—not yet. But hesitation could be deadly in their line of work.
---
With a stretch and a glance at his watch—though time didn't matter much to him—Ghost phased through the floor, descending into the lower levels of HQ where no one was supposed to go.
The air here was cooler, the hum of machinery louder. Most agents didn't bother coming down to these levels; there wasn't much here except storage and old infrastructure. Ghost liked it, though. It was quiet, and it gave him space to think.
He moved through the restricted corridors like a shadow, bypassing alarms and locks without a second thought. There was a reason people called him Ghost—it wasn't just the phasing thing. He went where others couldn't. He saw what others didn't. And sometimes, he came back with answers to questions no one had even thought to ask yet.
One room, in particular, caught his attention tonight. The door was thick, reinforced steel, with multiple locks and a keypad. Ghost phased through it without hesitation.
Inside, the room was smaller than he expected, dimly lit by a single fluorescent light. A row of lockers lined one wall, each labeled with a string of numbers and letters that meant nothing to him. In the center of the room was a metal table, and on it...
He frowned, stepping closer.
A piece of tech, sleek and unfamiliar, sat on the table. It was smaller than a toaster but bristled with antennas and glowing panels. Ghost leaned down, studying it. He reached out to touch it, but something in the back of his mind made him pause. Instead, he phased his hand just enough to pass through the device.
Nothing happened.
Still, he felt unsettled.
He stepped back, his gaze lingering on the device for a moment longer before he turned and left the room.
---
By the time he returned to the main levels of HQ, the tension in the air hadn't eased. He passed a couple of junior agents in the hallway, their chatter stopping the moment they saw him. Ghost didn't acknowledge them, disappearing through the nearest wall before they could ask him anything.
Back on the observation deck, he leaned against the glass again, his thoughts racing in a way they rarely did.
There was always more going on than anyone admitted—he knew that. Missions weren't just missions. People weren't just people. And the organization wasn't just the only one of its kind.
Ghost smirked to himself, the weight of the black cube in his pocket grounding him.
He didn't do nothing.
He was watching. Listening. Waiting.
And maybe, just maybe, borrowing a few things along the way.