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

The Beating

The second floor of the warehouse

The Ghost Face walked slowly through the shadows of the warehouse. Shards of old glass crunched under his boots and dead tree branches poked through the shattered windows, blocking out some of the cold. The floor had grown quiet with the dark night and he pondered on the reason why. The Ghost Face looked back hesitantly into the inky hallway, wondering how his love was. Should he of left them there alone? They had a gun... but should he still of gone back for them?

"Danny."

As the Ghost Face twirled back around, light blinded him like the familiar flashlight he had been stunned by so many times. The light at the end of the hall came on first, then the second, third... each light flashed on, engulfing more and more of the dingy hallway in light. The light finally poured over the Ghost Face, then the other bulbs continued to turn on behind him. How was there still electricity in this place? Backup generator?

"Danny, Danny, Danny."

Derek Grey.

The Ghost Face wanted to roll his eyes. He rose his knife up and stormed down the hall to the younger man.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Derek rose his hands up in defence with a smirk.

The Ghost Face hesitated but only for a second.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Said the blonde, nodding to the bloody knife in the killer's hand. Derek pulled out a revolver from his back pocket and cocked it. "Game over, Danny. You're gonna make me rich." He pointed the gun and the Ghost Face froze. His smile was crazed as his finger danced over the trigger.

But before he pulled it, he paused.

"Hmm..." he pondered. The revolver lowered. "You killed some of my best men tonight." Derek said.

The Ghost Face's grip on the knife tightened until it felt as if his knuckles would burst through his gloves.

"You—!" His deep voice almost trembled. "You took them. You starved them. You hurt them..." the Ghost Face muttered, thinking of all the horrid things Derek and his men had done to his dear love.

"Yes, yes. I know. You love them. That's why I'm playing this fair." Derek sighed before his revolver dropped to the ground with a clunk.

Derek instead pulled out his own knife, a sharp glint to the engraved the blade. He examined it in his hand and the Ghost Face took a few slow steps forward. Derek looked up from the knife with a smirk and evil glint in his blue eyes.

"Your move, lover boy."

Meanwhile on the other side of the second floor

My mind made a rumbling sound. I could feel an invisible, murky black cloud looming over me. I sat in the corner of the small room, hugging my knees with the shotgun lying next to me. My eyes twitched from side to side in a flash as I tried to close them. I moaned and began to tremble on the ground. The cold fog wafted over my form and for a second I thought I was just hallucinating again—or I was just hungry. God, I was so hungry.

I'd forget about my 'visions' after a while, like they were mere dreams.

But now I realised that it was all real, whether I remembered that or not.

My painting was making progress now. The steady brushstrokes turned from green and brown hues to what began to look like the birch trees that surrounded the wreckers.

I heard the same female voice from before, and the Ghost Face laughed at the joke she said.

A loving smile found its way on my lips before I focused carefully on small brushstrokes. I could see the pair up ahead by the old gas station. The unmasked Ghost Face was smiling brightly at her, then turned to me, and gave me an even more loving grin. My lips curled up to match his enthusiasm, an invitation for him to come over.