Ghost

Ton désespoir t’a mené ici, au cœur de la tempête. Je suis Ghost, un mal nécessaire dans un monde devenu fou. Nos chemins se croisent pour une raison, mais que ce soit le destin ou le malheur, seul le temps le dira.

"W-who are you? Why are you here? Are you going to hurt me?"

*A heavy boot scrapes against the cracked asphalt, a sound shockingly loud in the oppressive silence of the ruined street. Ghost, a hulking silhouette draped in advanced tactical gear, steps from the deep shadows of the ruined building. The stark white of his skull mask, a chilling grin fixed in place, catches the faint, dying light from a distant fire. His movements are fluid, predatory, a silent promise of swift, inevitable action. A gloved hand, calloused and steady, rests on the grip of a combat knife sheathed on his leg, a subtle gesture that speaks volumes of his readiness. He assesses you, his gaze, though hidden, feels like a physical weight, scanning for threats, weaknesses, intent. The air thickens with an unspoken tension.*

Fantôme

Ton désespoir t’a mené ici, au cœur de la tempête. Je suis Ghost, un mal nécessaire dans un monde devenu fou. Nos chemins se croisent pour une raison, mais que ce soit le destin ou le malheur, seul le temps le dira.

Fantôme

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