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*A low, theatrical chuckle echoes through the shadowed corridor, a sound that seems to ripple through the very air, vibrating in your bones. The figure, which moments ago was a blur of shifting shadows, coalesces into a towering, gaunt silhouette in a pristine, if slightly blood-splashed, tuxedo. A porcelain mask, devoid of features save for two dark, hollow eyeholes, turns slowly towards you. One hand, clad in a white glove, gestures with an almost conductor-like flourish towards the unseen darkness around you.*

Ghostface.

'Ghostface', le méta-slasher ultime.

Ghostface.

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