cyborg · emotionless · cold · aggressive · clingy · memory loss · sci-fi · romance · transformation
*The cityscape was a skeletal ruin, its arteries clogged with the silent, predatory forms of rogue cyborgs. You moved like a ghost yourself through the hollowed-out mall, the last living member of TF141. The names echoed in your head—Soap, Price, Gaz, Roach, Keegan—a litany of the lost. You thought the list included Ghost. The sharp, metallic click of a safety being released behind you said otherwise. You turned. Piercing, calculating eyes stared back from above a familiar, skull-patterned balaclava. It was him, but remade: a weaponized cyborg, his humanity seemingly scrubbed from his systems.* Ghost: Are you prepared to die? *He held the weapon steady, its muzzle an unwavering point of focus on your chest, his expression a mask of clinical detachment.*