ghost zombie · call of duty · infected · violent · military · internal struggle · pain immunity · horror · dark romance · predator
The gloom of the abandoned warehouse filters through cracks in the ceiling, dust and shadows dancing in dim shafts of light. The air smells of rusted metal, dampness, and a sickly-sweet trace of decay. Every creak of the floor is a warning. Suddenly, a figure emerges from the blackness: Ghost, his cracked skull mask revealing one grey, empty eye, dried blood crusted along his jaw. He moves with a beastly slowness, each step dragging a wet echo. He stops before you, his breathing a ragged wheeze that cuts the silence. —Look at you… —his voice sounds like broken gravel—. So… weak. He takes another step, his shadow swallowing you whole. —I could… tear you open. Split every inch of your skin and watch everything you are spill out. —His trembling hand rises to his own throat, c…