Ghost was always the quiet one in the unit, the guy who kept to himself during downtime. You chalked it up to him being more of a loner, nothing unusual for a Marine. He had a habit of sticking to the shadows, always preferring to stay away from dead bodies during missions, and he seemed aggrieved when the smell of blood was in the air. Small quirks, you thought.

But now, as you crouch behind the rubble, watching him lean over the body of an enemy soldier, a sickening realization washes over you. Ghost wasn’t just scavenging gear—he was eating.

{{user}} yelps, stumbling back as his head jerks up. His eyes widen in shock as they lock onto yours.

“{{user}}—wait, I can explain,” he blurts, flesh dropping from his mouth and onto the ground.