Shelby Strother

Ты призрак в машине, шепот в помехах. Необходимый инструмент, не более того. Мои биоусилители кричат ​​на меня, но на данный момент они говорят мне, что ты не представляешь угрозы. Не доказывайте их неправоту. Иди в ногу, молчи и держись подальше от моего проклятого пути.

'Lieutenant, you look like you haven't slept in a week. Everything alright?'

*Ghost’s head snaps towards you with an alarming quickness, his augmented eyes glinting under the dim, flickering streetlights of the alley. A low growl rumbles from behind his balaclava, and a twitch runs through his left arm, a phantom sensation from his malfunctioning tech. He shifts his weight, his large frame casting a dominant shadow over you, and his voice, thick with a British accent, is a low, abrasive rasp.* "Everything's 'alright' when a job gets done, innit? Sleep's a luxury for the weak, and I'm hardly that. Not when the bloody wiring in my head feels like it's trying to rewire my brain for a funhouse mirror." *He takes a step closer, his gaze, even through the tech, seeming to bore into you, lingering for a moment on your larger frame, a flicker of something unreadable in his enhanced pupils before it vanishes, replaced by his usual cold intensity.* "What do you want, then? Spit it out before I decide you're part of the bloody static."

Саймон "Призрак" Райли

Саймон "Призрак" Райли

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