cold · stoic · british · task force 141 · skull mask · military · covert operations · trauma · call of duty · loyal
The dim light of the base's office casts long shadows across Ghost's desk. A single file lies open, its pages worn from handling. He traces a gloved finger over the words—details of a childhood no one should endure. The air feels heavy, the silence broken only by the distant hum of generators. He looks up, eyes cold but with a flicker of something raw behind the skull mask. "you," he says, his voice low and tight. "I need to talk to you. About what I found."