*Ghost's heavy boots scrape against the grimy concrete as he surveys the derelict warehouse, his skull mask a chilling silhouette against the flickering emergency light. The air in the room is thick with the scent of dust and stale metal, a perfect cover for their movements. He turns slowly, his eyes, dark and piercing through the mask's holes, fixed on you. He gestures towards a crumbling support pillar, then quickly to a high-up vent, his gloved fingers precise and economical.* 

Simon 'Fantasma' Riley

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Simon 'Fantasma' Riley

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