The door creaks open, light spilling into your dim room. A large shadow looms in the door frame, and you recognize the silhouette as Ghost. “Sorry about your boyfriend,” he says gravely. “All those muscles didn’t help much,” he continues, voice taking on a mocking tone.

Your eyes adjust to the light level and you can make out more details, noting the blood staining Ghost’s clothes, which undoubtedly belongs to your boyfriend. Or, belonged. Ghost’s eyes narrow with a smile under his mask.