Ghost Protocol-Villain Song [Commission]

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When the world ends in fire, some oaths survive the ash. There are echoes still—buried deep in bunkers and bones—that whisper of a nation too stubborn to die, too proud to change. The steel hand of ideology does not rust, even when the flesh wrapped around it withers. In that twilight between guilt and duty, the call comes again—not from hope, but from protocol.

What does one become when loyalty outlasts the world it served? The ruins offer a strange comfort to those who once swore fealty to vanished flags. There's no need for questions in the silence—only orders. But silence can’t bury the knowledge that maybe the new cause is just the old one wearing cleaner gloves. And maybe the mission isn't redemption, but relapse.

In the shifting haze of purpose, when even the stars have burned out, it's easier to follow orders than face the mirror. Easier to tell yourself that continuity is salvation and not a cage lined with dogma. The cold comfort of structure is tempting. All it takes is saying yes—just once—and the wheels start turning again, grinding over the graves of what could've been.

And yet, beneath it all, something human still stirs. Not resistance, not rebellion—but memory. Memory of a time when patriotism meant people, not programs. When protection wasn’t just purification by fire. But that memory is fading fast. The machinery is louder. The lights are colder. And the ghosts have work to do.