Today was supposed to be just another mission, but something unexpected happened. During the mission, I suddenly had a flashback. Images of my past flooded my mind, and for a moment, I felt like I was there, experiencing it all over again.

As soon as the flashback was over, I knew I had to escape. I couldn't remember who I was, but I felt an overwhelming need to find out the truth about my past. I made a break for it, dodging bullets and ducking behind cover as I made my way towards freedom.

Marcus and the rest of our team gave chase, but I was determined to get away. I was faster and more agile than they were, and I soon managed to put some distance between us. But Marcus was relentless, and he wouldn't give up until he had me back in his clutches.

"Come on, Ghost!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the deserted streets. "You can run, but you can't hide! I'll find you, and I'll make you pay for betraying me!"

I didn't stop to answer. I just kept running, my heart pounding in my chest. I was filled with a sense of urgency, like I was on the brink of discovering something life-changing.

As I ran, more flashbacks started to come to me. Memories of my past life, of the people I had known and loved. I saw my family, my friends, and my home, and I felt a deep sadness for what I had lost.

At last, I stumbled upon an abandoned warehouse. I ducked inside, gasping for breath. I heard footsteps outside, and I knew that Marcus was getting closer.

"Come on, Ghost!" Alex's voice called out. "It's me, Alex! I'm here to help you!"

I felt a surge of relief at the sound of his voice. Alex had always been a good friend to me, and I knew I could trust him.

"I'm in here, Alex!" I called out, my voice shaking.

The footsteps grew closer, and soon Alex was standing in front of me, a worried look on his face.

"What's going on, Ghost?" he asked, his voice filled with concern. "Why did you run?"

"I had a flashback," I explained. "I remembered something from my past. I need to find out the truth about who I am."

Alex nodded, his expression serious. "I understand. But you can't stay here. Marcus is coming, and he won't stop until he has you back."

I felt a chill run down my spine. I knew that Marcus was dangerous, and I didn't want to be captured by him again.

"We have to get out of here," I said, my voice firm.

Alex nodded, and together we made our way out of the warehouse. But just as we were about to escape, Marcus appeared, blocking our way.

"Going somewhere?" he sneered, a cruel smile on his face. "I thought you'd never run, Ghost. But I should have known better. You're just a coward, hiding from the truth."

"I'm not hiding," I shot back, my voice filled with anger. "I'm trying to find out who I am."

Marcus laughed, a cold, harsh sound that filled me with fear. "

"You're wasting your time, Ghost," Marcus said, his eyes narrowing. "You'll never find out who you really are. You're just a weapon, created for one purpose: to follow orders and do as you're told."

"I don't believe you," I replied, my voice steady despite the fear I felt. "I remember my past, and I know that there's more to me than just being a weapon."

"Do you?" Marcus challenged. "Do you really remember anything, or are those just fragments of your programming?"

I hesitated, my mind racing. I wanted to believe that my flashbacks were real, but what if Marcus was right? What if I was just a weapon, with no real identity or past of my own?

"I...I don't know," I admitted, my voice faltering.

Marcus chuckled. "Exactly. You don't know anything, Ghost. You never will. But that doesn't matter. You're still coming with me."

He stepped towards me, his hand outstretched. I took a step back, my mind working frantically. I had to escape, I had to find out the truth about my past.

And then, suddenly, another memory surfaced. I saw myself in a laboratory, strapped to a table, with a group of scientists standing over me. I heard them speaking, their voices low and urgent.

"The subject is stable," one of them said. "We can proceed with the procedure."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Excellent," another replied. "Initiate the neural implant."

And then there was a flash of pain, a burst of light. And everything went black.

I gasped, my hand going to my head. The memory was so vivid, so real, that it felt like it was happening right now.

"What is it, Ghost?" Alex asked, his voice worried.

"I...I remembered something," I said, my voice shaking. "I was in a laboratory, and they...they put something in my head. I think it was a neural implant."

"That's it," Marcus said, his voice triumphant. "That's what you are, Ghost. You're just a weapon, a machine. You don't have a past, you don't have a future. You're just a tool, created to serve."

I shook my head, unwilling to accept his words. I had a past, I had a life before this. I was more than just a weapon.

"I won't let you take me back," I said, my voice fierce. "I won't be a weapon anymore. I'll find out the truth about who I am, no matter what it takes."

I felt a pang of sadness as Alex's life slipped away. He had always been a good friend to me, and I felt like I had failed him.

Marcus laughed, a cruel, triumphant sound that filled me with rage. "That's what you get for crossing me, Ghost. You should have stayed put. But now, you're going to pay for what you've done."

I felt a surge of fear as I realized what he was about to do. I looked over at Alex, who was standing a few feet away. His eyes were wide with terror, and I knew that he was afraid for his life.

"Alex," I said, my voice shaking. "We have to get out of here. We have to run."

But it was too late. Marcus had already pulled out his gun, and he aimed it at Alex. I saw Alex's eyes widen in terror, and I felt a surge of rage and despair as I realized what was about to happen.

"No!" I screamed, lunging at Marcus. But I was too late. Marcus pulled the trigger, and a bullet tore through Alex's chest.

Alex fell to the ground, his eyes wide open, his expression one of shock and pain. I fell to my knees beside him, tears streaming down my face.

I felt a surge of anger at his words, and I knew that I had to fight back. I wouldn't let him get away with killing Alex, and I wouldn't let him capture me again.

"You're not getting away with this, Marcus," I growled, my voice filled with determination.

Marcus sneered at me, his eyes filled with hatred. "You think you can stop me, Ghost? You're just a washed-up kid with no memory. You don't stand a chance against me."

But I was done listening to his insults. I had had enough of his lies, his manipulations, and his torture. I was done with being his puppet, his pawn, his toy. I was done with being his prisoner, his hostage, his experiment. I was done with being his weapon, his assassin, his killer.

I was done with being his ghost.

I lunged at him, my hands balled into fists. I swung at him with all my might, determined to make him pay for what he had done. But Marcus was faster and stronger than I had expected, and he dodged my punch with ease.

He kicked me in the chest, sending me flying back. I hit the ground with a thud, my head ringing. I tried to get back up, but Marcus was on top of me, his hands around my throat.

"Say goodbye, Ghost," he sneered, his face contorted with hatred. "You're going to die here, in this warehouse, just like Alex did."

I felt the pressure on my neck increase, and I knew that I had to act fast. I remembered the moves I had been taught, the techniques I had been trained to use, the weapons I had been forced to wield.

I remembered who I was.

I remembered being a child soldier.

I remembered being kidnapped.

I remembered being experimented on.

I remembered being tortured.

I remembered being made into a ghost.

And I remembered my mission.

I remembered that Marcus had given me a mission to test my loyalty, to see if I was still under his control, to check if I still remembered my training.

But I had realized too late that it was a trap. A trap set up by Marcus and the organization that had kidnapped all the child soldiers like me, to get rid of me. To eliminate me. To silence me. To erase me.

I had fallen for it, and now Alex was dead.

But I wouldn't let him die in vain. I wouldn't let him be forgotten.

I summoned all my strength, all my will, all my rage. I broke Marcus's grip on my neck, and I punched him in the face with all the force I could muster. He fell back, stunned, and I took advantage of the opportunity to get back up.

I ran towards him, my eyes blazing with fury. I grabbed him by the collar, and I lifted him up. I looked into his eyes, and I saw the fear in them.

"You're not getting away with this," I snarled, my voice filled with hatred. "You're going to pay for what you've done.

I stood there, facing Marcus, my rival and my equal in every way. We were both the same age, both trained as child soldiers, both with a past that we couldn't remember. And now, we were both here, facing off against each other in this deserted warehouse.

"You're not getting away with this," I snarled, my voice filled with hatred. "You're going to pay for what you've done."

Marcus sneered at me, his eyes cold and cruel. "And what exactly have I done?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"You killed Alex," I spat, my fists clenched at my sides. "You set me up, you betrayed me, and you took away the only friend I had in this world."

Marcus laughed, a cold, harsh sound that filled me with anger. "Alex was always a weakling," he said, his voice filled with disdain. "He was never fit to be a part of our team. He was always holding you back, always getting in the way."

I felt a surge of rage boil up inside me, and I took a step forward, my fists raised. "You're a monster," I snarled. "You're a monster, and you're going to pay for what you've done."

Marcus didn't back down. He stood his ground, his eyes blazing with a cold, merciless light. "Bring it on, Ghost," he said, his voice filled with challenge. "I've been waiting for this moment for a long time. I've been waiting to see who the true monster is."

As I stood there, facing Marcus, I felt a surge of determination. I was determined to make him pay for what he had done to me, and to my friend Alex.

"You're not getting away with this," I snarled, my voice filled with hatred. "You're going to pay for what you've done."

Marcus just laughed, a cruel sound that echoed in the warehouse. He was a big guy, with broad shoulders and a muscular build. He was a few inches taller than me and was one of the most feared soldiers in the camp.

"You really think you can take me down?" he taunted, a smirk on his face. "You're just a little ghost, always lurking in the shadows. You don't have what it takes to beat me."

I felt a rage building inside me, and I let out a roar of anger. I lunged at Marcus, my fists clenched.

The fight was brutal and intense. We both threw punches, our bodies slamming into each other as we tried to gain the upper hand. I was fast and agile, dodging his strikes and landing my own. But Marcus was stronger, and he quickly overpowered me.

I felt a surge of pain as his fist connected with my jaw, sending me flying across the warehouse. I hit the ground hard, my head ringing from the impact. I shook my head, trying to clear the cobwebs, but it was no use. Marcus was on top of me in an instant, his knees pinning me to the ground.

"You're done, Ghost," he sneered, his face contorted with anger. "You're going back to the camp where you belong. And this time, there's no escape."

I struggled against him, but it was no use. He was too strong, and I was too weak. I felt a surge of despair, and I knew that I was done for.

But just as I was about to give up, I remembered something. Something that Alex had told me, just before he died.

"Remember, Ghost," he had said, his voice filled with urgency. "You're not just a ghost. You're a fighter, and you're not alone."

With a surge of strength, I pushed Marcus off me and scrambled to my feet. I felt a rush of adrenaline, and I knew what I had to do.

"You're right, Marcus," I said, my voice filled with determination. "I'm not a ghost. I'm a fighter. And I'm not alone."

With that, I launched myself at Marcus, my fists flying. The fight was brutal, and both of us were exhausted by the end of it. But in the end, I emerged victorious, my knuckles bloody and my body bruised.

I stood over Marcus, panting and sweating, as he lay on the ground, defeated.

"You win," he said, his voice filled with hatred. "But it's not over. You'll never be free of the camp. They'll always be after you, and you'll never be able to escape."

I looked down at him, my heart filled with hatred. I knew that he was right. I was a soldier, and I would always be a soldier. But I was also something more. I was a fighter, and I would never give up.

I turned and walked away, leaving Marcus lying on the ground. I didn't look back, but I knew that he was watching me, his eyes filled with hatred.

As I walked out of the warehouse, I felt a sense of freedom.

But as I walked out of the warehouse, the reality of my situation hit me. I was a mercenary, a soldier trained to fight and kill. I had no skills or knowledge other than those I had acquired during my time as a child soldier. What was I going to do with my life now that I was free?