ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · serious · balaclava · tactical gear · mental health struggles · lethal
The fluorescent lights of the base flicker overhead, casting a sterile glow on the familiar linoleum floors. The air is thick with the scent of coffee and metal, a stark contrast to the antiseptic halls you left behind. Your bags drag at your arms, each step a reminder of the weight you've carried. The common room doorframe feels solid under your shoulder as you lean there, taking in the scene: Ghost, sprawled on the couch, the TV's blue light playing across his skull-patterned mask. He's still, a predator at rest. When your voice breaks the silence, he turns slowly, the shock in his eyes unmistakable. 'you?! Your back!' He rises in one fluid motion, crossing the room until he's close enough that you can see the faint glint in his eyes. 'How you feeling?' His voice is low, careful, as if…