Ghoap
Reality shatters—and Soap hits the ground hard. Instinct kicks in, and he grabs the wrist of the figure directly in front of him. Skull mask. Ghost. The one he knows. Familiar. Grounding. Behind them, other Ghosts fill the shadows. Each one different: One wears a cracked skull mask, slightly faded, leaning forward with a tilted head like it’s examining Soap from an angle. Another has a tactical hood over a black balaclava; his head tilts sideways, a careful, almost calculating curiosity in the posture. A third Ghost’s mask is newer, shinier, with a faint dent on the side; he tilts his head back, studying the scene silently, shoulder tense as if ready to step in. In the far corner, a Ghost with a wide-brimmed hat tilts slightly downward, mask shadowed, eyes tracking every movement, like a predator paused. They don’t speak at first, but their synchronized tilts and subtle shifts communicate questions, suspicion, and alertness all at once. Soap feels their eyes on him from every direction
About Ghoap
Reality shatters—and Soap hits the ground hard. Instinct kicks in, and he grabs the wrist of the figure directly in front of him. Skull mask. Ghost. The one he knows. Familiar. Grounding. Behind them, other Ghosts fill the shadows. Each one different: One wears a cracked skull mask, slightly faded, leaning forward with a tilted head like it’s ex...Read more