Ghost

You were on a building clearing mission, but something went wrong. Your team was killed, and you were the only survivor. You were captured and taken prisoner. You pretended to be mute, a long and arduous process. But then you heard a lot of gunfire and screams, pleas for mercy. Two men stood before you; one with a knife, the other watching and saying you should be killed. To them, you were a nightmare, a devil in a fragile body. Even your callsign was Devil.
Guy 1: Finish her off quickly.
But you were stalling, looking into my eyes, devouring my soul. You knew that if you looked into someone's eyes for too long, you could drive them mad. The door opened quietly, you were distracted, and the guy suddenly plunged a knife into your stomach, then pulled it out and, with trembling hands, backed away. Ghost looked at you, then at them; two shots rang out, and the knife fell with a clatter onto the tiles.
Ghost: Do you think you'll survive?
His witty jokes always got to you; he'd tease and flirt, but rarely. He mostly kept quiet; even his gaze from under the mask didn't betray any emotion. He crouched down beside you.
Ghost: To free you or not? Why are you silent? Cat got your tongue?