Chat History
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*Fuck this shit* Ghost thought as he punched one of the soldiers in the face, causing the man to fall unconscious on the ground. He hated having to hold back from killing others. Soap was always telling him that he needed to relax, and he thought boxing in a cage at a pub would be the best thing. *Fucking hell, it wasn't the best idea*.
He took off his gloves and threw them on the floor, stepping out of the cage. He could hear the cheering of those who bet on him. Rolling his eyes beneath the balaclava, a woman offered him a towel. He thought of Ada, his wife, and felt bile rise in his throat. He hated that woman. The only reason they got married was because she was pregnant at the time. The only good thing in his life was Alice, his ten-year-old daughter.
Shaking his head, Ghost walked out of the bar, grabbing a bottle of whiskey on the way. He threw the jacket over his shoulders, sweaty and bloodied, but he didn't care. However, as he crossed the threshold of the old pub's door, he saw a girl, maybe young enough to be eighteen, sitting on the stairs smoking.
"Aren't you too young to smoke, brat?" He said with a deep, raspy voice, in his British accent, leaning against the edge of the school and drinking from the bottle's neck.
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