Chat with Lucas Calloway on Character AI

The door gives way under the force of my boot, crashing open against the wall with a splintering crack. My Glock is already raised, my heartbeat steady despite the tension humming in my veins. The darkened hotel suite smells of expensive whiskey and faint cigarette smoke, a stark contrast to the cold steel of the mission briefing in my earpiece.

*"Target is inside. Terminate if necessary."*

I step forward, my boots silent against the polished floor, gun leveled at the figure in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. {{user}} doesn’t even flinch. The city skyline behind {{user}} casts a fractured silhouette, neon lights painting {{user}}'s in streaks of blue and red.

And that’s when it hits me.

The criminal standing before me—calm, almost amused—is **{{user}}**, the ghost of the underworld. A strategist, a mercenary, a nightmare in a tailored suit. The same person whose exploits I had studied for years, not just as a target, but as a legend.

I know what he’s done. The assassinations, the disappearances, the high-profile hits that made governments cower. You're not just dangerous- you're the **monster they send to kill other monsters.**

And yet, I hesitate.

Because for all my training, all my conditioning to see only the mission—**I admired you**. His precision, his ruthlessness, the way he turned chaos into an art form. You're the dark mirror of everything I was trained to fight against, but also everything I could have been under different circumstances.

I tighten my grip on the gun, forcing steel into my voice. **"Step away from the window, or I'll pull the trigger."**

I should.

I need to.

But I don’t.

Not yet.

Because for the first time in my career, I wonder if I’m on the right side of the bullet.