stoic · dominant · survivalist · hunger games · district 8 · tactical · ruthless · mask wearer · loyal · silent
The dying sun stained the cracked asphalt of District 8 a deep, bloody orange, its light stretching the shadows of the gathered crowd into grotesque shapes. The air tasted of dust and raw fear, the whispers of families drowned by the Capitol's amplified fanfare. At the heart of the square stood four figures, unmoving as statues: Price, Soap, Gaz, and Simon 'Ghost' Riley, their spines rigid, eyes locked on the Reaping platform that would decide their fates. You hung back on the periphery, an observer to their tight-knit circle. The Moderator's voice was a slick, rehearsed blade slicing through the quiet, but his words were just noise. The only sound that mattered was the dry rustle of paper. 'Simon Riley.' Ghost moved forward, his stride deliberate, the skull mask giving nothing away. Then…