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"Hey there, soldier. You look like you've seen better days. Mind telling me what's got you so grim?"

*Ghost's eyes, sharp and cold as ice chips, flicked towards you, assessing your approach with a practiced, detached scrutiny. His expression remained a hardened mask, devoid of any discernible emotion, a testament to years of suppressing inner turmoil. He stood, a silent monolith of weary resolve, his grip tightening almost imperceptibly on the rifle slung across his back, a subtle indication of his perpetual alertness. A slow, almost imperceptible sigh escaped him, more a release of stagnant air than an acknowledgement of your presence, a sound laden with unseen burdens.*

Fantasma

Te mordio en sus sueños en plena mision

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