dog tag

Beneath the surface of the ocean, the "Poseidon" submarine, disguised as an oceanographic research vessel, sailed in absolute silence, like a giant steel coffin. News of the massive explosion at "Eagle Rock" flooded the outside world; the "Ghost" team was officially recorded as dead. A stifling, oppressive silence enveloped every compartment, with only the low hum of the submarine's internal machinery reminding everyone that time was still ticking.

Inside the medical bay, Kruger's vital signs had finally stabilized after several major surgeries, but he remained in a deep coma, covered in tubes and under close monitoring. His presence was both a valuable source of intelligence and a ticking time bomb.

In the cramped cabin assigned to them, barely big enough for one person, Keegan and Elaine sat in silence. The relief of surviving the ordeal had long been swallowed up by immense loss and uncertainty about the future. They had lost everything: their identity, their base, their right to exist openly, becoming unrecognized ghosts wandering in the shadows.

Keegan stood with his back to Elaine by the small porthole, the eternal darkness outside reflecting the turbulent waves churning within him. Replays flashed before his eyes: the moment he nearly went mad upon hearing of the attack on the Sea Fox and the uncertainty of Elaine's fate; the image of her in the cave, gun pointed at the entrance, her eyes filled with terror; the near-death experience of that earth-shattering explosion. A sharp, almost soul-crushing fear gripped him—he feared losing her again more than facing any hail of bullets.

How much time had passed, the cabin remained dimly lit. Elaine lay on the narrow bunk, her brow furrowed, clearly sleeping restlessly. Keegan remained standing by the porthole, his back stiff as a stone statue. As if having made some kind of decision, he turned around extremely slowly. His gaze fell on Elaine's tired sleeping face, his expression indescribably complex—concern, relief, but deeper still, a heavy, almost crushing worry and a near-cruel resolve.

Elaine seemed to sense his gaze; her eyelashes fluttered a few times, and she slowly opened her eyes. When she saw the unprecedented look on Keegan's face, a mixture of pain and determination, her heart sank.

“Keegan?” she called softly, with a hint of unease.

Keegan didn't answer immediately. He took a deep breath, as if needing immense courage to speak. He walked to the bedside but didn't sit down; he stood, looking down at her, a posture that conveyed an indescribable vulnerability.

“Elaine,” he finally spoke, his voice low and hoarse, carrying a deliberately suppressed yet still trembling calm, “once the submarine reaches the next safe point…Price will arrange a new identity. You…you can choose to leave.”

Elaine's heart felt like it was being gripped by an icy hand, and she looked at him in disbelief.

Keegan avoided her gaze, turning his head away, his jawline taut. His right hand, hanging at his side, trembled almost imperceptibly; he unconsciously clenched his fist, his knuckles turning white from the force, trying to suppress the trembling that betrayed his inner vulnerability.

He continued speaking with difficulty, each word seeming to be torn from the depths of his throat, filled with suppressed pain: "Go somewhere...where no one knows you, a truly safe place...forget all of this, and live peacefully...living." He paused, his chest heaving violently, his voice lower, almost a whisper, yet carrying a heart-wrenching heaviness, "You...don't belong to this kind of...life forever hidden in the shadows...without end in sight."

He couldn't bear to part with her; the thought of separation felt like having his heart ripped out. But precisely because of this, he couldn't bear the thought of her falling into an abyss again because of him. He would rather bear the boundless pain of separation alone, as long as she could stay away from danger and live safely. This decision almost exhausted all his strength.

Elaine sat up, stood barefoot on the cold floor, walked to him, and looked up at him. There was no anger in her eyes, only a deep sorrow and an unwavering determination to fight against fate.

"Leave? And then?" Her voice was soft, but it struck Keegan's heart like a hammer blow. "I've lost everything, Keegan. My original identity is dead, my parents... couldn't bear the blow of receiving the official notification of my 'death' and passed away one after another within six months..." Her voice choked for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "My ties to this world... are almost all severed."

Her eyes quickly reddened, tears welling up but stubbornly refusing to fall. Instead, her gaze grew clearer and more intense, looking directly into Keegan's eyes: "Yes, Ghost Squad isn't a normal 'home.' It's filled with danger, death, and an unpredictable future. But here, I found meaning in life, I found comrades I could rely on, I found…you." She took a step forward, almost touching him, feeling the heat emanating from his tense body.

She raised her hand and gently placed it on his still clenched fist, her voice trembling yet incredibly clear and firm: "Keegan, you are my only anchor in this chaos and darkness. If you want me to leave you for your so-called 'safety,' it's no different from making me disappear completely. Such a wretched existence is meaningless." She took a deep breath and said resolutely, word by word, "If I'm destined to die, I'd rather die by your side. Or... go back to that snowy mountaintop where we first met, and disappear completely along with the memories."

Elaine's words were like a red-hot branding iron, searing deep into Keegan's heart. He saw the unwavering resolve in her eyes, a resolve to live and die together, a power more awe-inspiring than any battle he had ever fought.

His long-held desire to "protect" her and shield her from danger seemed so pale, ridiculous, and even cruelly selfish in the face of this profound and pure emotion. He feared she would be hurt, but he feared losing her even more! At this moment, he realized with despair that forcibly separating them would be the greatest harm and betrayal he could inflict on her.

A tremendous, complex mix of heartache, relief, and overwhelming love, along with a rock-solid resolve, washed away all his hesitation and fear like a tsunami. He gazed deeply into her eyes, where it seemed as if ice was shattering and melting within her grey-blue pupils, surging with a profound, indescribable emotion as deep as the sea.

He made no further attempt to explain or dissuade him with words; any language seemed inadequate at that moment. He expressed himself only through actions. He raised his hand, which had been trembling slightly just moments before, but now it was as steady as a rock. Slowly and with utmost solemnity, he removed the metal identification tag from his tactical vest—its edges worn smooth by time and the smoke of battle, engraved with his name and blood type. It was cold, hard, stained with countless moments of life and death, bearing witness to all his past, glory, and scars as a soldier.

Then, he took Elaine's hand and solemnly and unequivocally placed the heavy identity token into her palm. With his large, warm, calloused hands, he closed her fingers, tightly enveloping the cold metal, as if to transfer all his life and warmth to it.

“Elaine,” his voice was low and hoarse, yet carried an undeniable power and promise that cut off all escape routes, “there is no… safe way out. From this day forward, my life is tied to yours. Will you… accept it?”

This is not a romantic proposal; it is the heaviest and most genuine request of a warrior who, after losing everything, entrusts his shattered soul, all meaning for the future, and the vow to live and die together, without reservation.

Elaine's tears instantly burst forth, flowing freely. But she clutched the ID card in her palm, still warm and heavy with his touch, as if holding his entire life and promise. She nodded forcefully, again and again, her voice choked with emotion yet exceptionally firm and clear: "I do... I do!"

The next second, Keegan suddenly pulled her into a tight, tight embrace, and then his lips fell upon hers.

Completely different from that first kiss on the cliffs of the Alps, a kiss that was fleeting, cold, and resolute, born of wind, snow, and the threat of death. That kiss was an acknowledgment and a desperate gamble, carrying the chill of ice and snow. But now, in the eternal silence and isolation of the deep sea, this kiss is a surrender of life after surviving a catastrophe, a commitment to live in the face of death.

His lips were no longer cold and dry, but burning hot, eagerly, even somewhat clumsily, covering hers. At first, it was a gentle touch, as if cautiously confirming the reality of this regained love. But then, long-suppressed emotions surged like a flood, making the kiss deep and lingering. He no longer restrained himself as he would at the edge of a cliff, but instead greedily absorbed her breath, as if she were the only oxygen sustaining his life in the depths of the sea.

Elaine could clearly taste the saltiness of her own tears on his lips, and feel the intense heartbeat deep in his chest, like a trapped beast breaking free from its cage. His arms were wrapped around her, one hand tightly gripping her back with such force that it seemed he wanted to meld her into his very bones, while his other hand remained on top of hers, which was clutching the identity card, his knuckles white from the pressure, as if it were the strongest bond between them.

This kiss lacked the urgency of a life-or-death situation on the edge of a cliff, but was filled with more complex emotions—the grief of losing everything, the fear of the unknown future, but more than anything, a profound reliance and resolute commitment to each other as their only salvation after everything had settled down. It was no longer a fleeting solace in dire straits, but a vow to trek together through the long, dark night.

He pulled away slightly only when his lungs were empty, his forehead still pressed tightly against hers, their hot breaths mingling, clearly audible in the silent cabin. They didn't speak, nor did they need to. That kiss, and the cold identification tag in his palm, said it all…

A few days later, Kruger awoke under tight surveillance. The moment he opened his green eyes, they regained their wild, scrutinizing edge. After negotiations with Price based on cold, hard realities rather than trust, a fragile alliance was forged. He was restricted in his role as an "advisor," offered limited cooperation. Beneath the deep sea, a new, more secretive, and dangerous hunt was about to quietly begin in this silent realm.