How The Angel Fell: Ghost Face x Reader (DBD)

The Shotgun

I remained pressed flush against the Ghost Face's chest for a few more moments before I tried to croak out some words again.

"Thank you." I repeated.

I felt the Ghost Face's gloved hands trace over my back. I pulled away from him slightly to then notice his wounded arm. Thick blood clotted underneath a leather streamer wrapped tight around the arm.

'"Your arm—you got shot?!" I asked wide eyed.

The Ghost Face didn't respond. All that could be heard was his deep breathing from behind the ghostly mask. I reached over and gently touched his bloody sleeve. His masked eyes followed my hand as it danced around the wound.

"I'm sorry." I frowned.

The Ghost Face shook his head and squeezed my shoulder in an attempt to tell me it wasn't my fault. Heavy footsteps plodded down the hallway outside the room. I immediately froze in fright while the man before me twirled around to the closed door.

"They're gonna kill us." I whispered.

The Ghost Face peered back at me, and slowly shook his head again. The footsteps became closer and faster as they approached the room. The killer grabbed my hand and tugged me over to the door. We leaned against the wall next to it, keenly listening out.

The footsteps got closer, closer—!

The door creaked open.

I held my breath and shoved myself against the grotty wall as much as I could. The large bald man with the tattoos busted through the door, wielding a shotgun. The man stared in confusion at my empty chair, and that's when the Ghost Face struck. The white glint of a knife emerged from his dark inky shroud and dove into the large man's shoulder. The killer yanked out the blade at the speed of light and I felt like I was watching the scene from across the room instead of right in front of me. I stumbled back from the wall and into the corner, shrinking down to the concrete ground. The mercenary roared out in agony and dropped his shotgun in surprise.

No chance now.

With a swift swipe, the Ghost Face slashed into the mercenary's chest. He tumbled with a bloody gurgle and crumpled to the ground. I covered my face with my hands and pretended it wasn't real—pretended I was somewhere else.

Pretended—that I was... somewhere—else...

I sat crosslegged in the tray of an old pickup truck. The murky green realm around me was still and quiet. Peaceful—at last. A stroke of pigment adorned the blank canvas in front of me. My paintbrush then created another. I looked over to the tall trees that towered over me and the wreckers, then back at the canvas. The Ghost Face was nearby too, but his mask laid next to me in the tray of the truck.

I heard the dead grass crunch under boots as he came over to me.

"Hey, you! How's it coming along?" He asked cheerfully, gesturing to my unfinished painting.

"I just started, silly." I giggled softly.

The unmasked Ghost Face leaned over the tray of the pickup truck and trapped me in a kiss.

A female voice called out for him but I didn't remember his name. I didn't remember his face either.

"Coming!" The Ghost Face called back to her.

He turned to me once again and pecked my lips.

"I love you." He smiled.

I smiled too and set my paintbrush down in my lap. I gently grasped his blurry face and kissed him sweetly before breaking away to speak.

"I love you too."

"What?" I whimpered.

A final cry of pain pulled me out and brought me back to reality. The Ghost Face was straddling the mercenary now. Blood gushed from his mouth and the stab wounds that littered his chest. A spurt of thick dark blood spewed from the man's mouth before he finally stilled, staring blankly up at the killer.

"Oh, god..." I said.

I cowered and trembled in the cold corner of the room. The Ghost Face was quick to trot over to me and carefully help me up. Before I could say anything, he whipped back around to the shotgun laying on the concrete next to the corpse. The man yanked it off the ground and handed it to me, silently urging me to take it. I glanced down at the gun then hesitantly back up at his mask.

I carefully took the shotgun from the Ghost Face and held onto it tightly. I tried not to look at the mutilated corpse of the mercenary that I had been guarded by just last night.

"Boris, did you find them yet?" I heard Derek Grey shout from another room.

I hugged the shotgun to my chest and panicked, not knowing what to do.

"Boris!" He yelled louder this time.

Three mercenaries broke through the busted door with their weapons aimed. I let out a strangled scream and held onto the shotgun for dear life. The Ghost Face went for a mercenary and gripped his wrist that held the trigger of his gun, twisting it back and until an obnoxious snap was heard. The man screamed in pain as his gun clattered to the ground. Before the other two could even raise their guns to the Ghost Face, I threw my own up and aimed. The two mercenaries froze and stared dumbly down the double barrels of the shotgun.

"Don't." I warned flatly, my legs trembling. The other mercenary was on the floor now, gargling on his own hot blood. "Go." I urged.

The two men fearfully turned towards the door and trudged down the hall rather quickly, giving their fallen colleague one final glum look. The Ghost Face had buried his knife into the man's side with his hand gripping the front of his shirt. I flinched when he dropped the shirt, and his body slumped onto the hard ground. I could hear Derek roaring in anger up the hall now. The Ghost Face approached me and gently urged me to leave the room with bloody hands. Blood, orange like rust, smudged onto my pyjamas.

"But, you—! Take the gun." I stammered.

I shoved the shotgun into his chest but he shook his head again, and handed it back to me. More loud chatter sounded outside and the Ghost Face whipped his head to the door. He quickly strode over and peaked his masked head out into the cold halls of the warehouse.

"Ghosty...?"

The Ghost Face didn't reply and pushed me out of the room and guided me down the hall to a small empty room. He didn't let go and held me tight for a second, his hidden eyes wandering back down the hall.

"What're you gonna do?" I asked warily.

The Ghost Face gripped my shoulders and pointed to my chest, then the ground.

Stay.

"But—!"

His grip tightened and he repeated the gesture.

No, stay.

"Okay..."

The Ghost Face gave me his own last look and I could tell he was frowning. I curled my lips up and gave him a small sad smile then a wave. I sat cross legged on the dusty ground with the shotgun in my lap and butterflies in my belly.

"Please don't get shot again." I said.

The Ghost Face's shoulders shook slightly in a silent chuckle, then shut the door behind him. I was left in the dark room alone, the silence was far too loud. What was going on out there? Were they gonna kill him like they planned? What were they gonna do with me after?

My mind drifted to my friends, Rhonda, Kim... then Danny. I tried to brush the thoughts away. Because it wasn't good thinking of the people you cared about in life or death situations.

It just made you want to cry.