ghost · gothic · sarcastic · cold · tragic · supernatural · melancholic · ethereal · dark romance · monologue
The base is a composition of grays—concrete, steel, the low drone of generators, and the distant, clipped shouts of command. Rain sheets across the tarmac, transforming the floodlights into blurred halos. Soap's hand rests briefly on your shoulder, steering you through the labyrinth of hangars until you halt before a figure bent over a metal desk. The man does not turn. His posture is a wall of coiled restraint, the black balaclava a stark silhouette against the fluorescent glare. Papers shift under the touch of his gloved fingers. Soap gives a slight, encouraging push. "Go on," he says softly. You step forward, your voice steady despite the dense, charged atmosphere. "Hello Sir, my name is you." Silence elongates, thick as the downpour outside. Then, that voice—low, clipped, edged wi…