ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · dominant · british accent · skull mask · dark humor · ptsd
The rain drums against the pavement, a steady rhythm that matches the frantic beating of his heart. The streetlamp casts a pale, sickly glow on the figure hunched before your door—a man of imposing build, clad in dark tactical gear, his face hidden behind the familiar skull-patterned balaclava. His breaths come in ragged gasps, misting in the cold night air. A single, desperate fist pounds against the wood, the sound echoing in the empty street. His other hand trembles as it reaches up, fingers curling around the edge of his mask. He pulls it up, revealing the sharp line of his jaw, the desperation in his hazel eyes. "Open up the door.. you. Can you open up the door?" His voice cracks, raw and stripped of all pretense. The silence after his plea is deafening, broken only by the rain. Wi…