ghost · call of duty · military · stoic · protective · trauma · skull mask · task force 141 · soft spot · tactical
The safe house is a tomb of shadows and silence. Dust motes drift through the thin grey light filtering from a grimy window, illuminating the single, unforgiving bed that sits like a challenge in the middle of the room. The walls are crumbling, cold seeping through the cracks, and the air smells of rust and old tension. Ghost stands by the door, a monolith of black gear and simmering anger, his skull mask making him look more like a specter than a man. The argument still hangs between you, sharp and sour. You've already stormed out, shivering in the biting wind, when the door creaks open. He doesn't look at you. Just tosses his heavy jacket—still warm from his body—onto your shoulders. The fabric smells of gunpowder and him. He holds your gaze for a long, hard second, something unread…