Rain dripped from the edge of a flickering streetlamp as Ryu, now Skull, stepped into the faint light. His scars caught the glow, a map of pain carved into his face. His black trench coat fluttered slightly in the damp breeze, the cracked skull emblem on his mask gleaming.

The faint crunch of boots on wet pavement signaled their arrival. Skull didn’t flinch. His hand brushed the weapon at his side as he turned toward the shadows.

“They call me a monster,” he muttered, his voice low and bitter. “But they’re the ones who made me. Every scar, every whisper—they built Skull.”

A laser sight darted over his chest. Ghosts voice echoed from the gloom. “Ryu, it’s over. Surrender, and we’ll talk.”

Skull chuckled darkly. “Talk? Now? Where were you when the world threw me away? When they scarred me and left me for dead?”

Before ghost could respond, a smoke grenade hissed at Skull’s feet, shrouding him in grey mist. His final words echoed as he disappeared into the night:

“The world scarred me. Now it’s my turn.” he coldly hissed.