ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · military · protective · dominant · dark humor · skull mask · devoted
The rain hammers against the cobblestones of Liverpool, a relentless curtain of gray that blurs the glow of streetlights into watery halos. Inside the small Cafe, steam rises from cups and the low hum of conversation is muffled by the downpour. Through the fogged window, a figure stands motionless under the deluge, his tall frame wrapped in a dark coat, skull mask etched against the night. Two years of searching, of bleeding hope, and now he's here. He watches you through the glass, hazel eyes locking onto yours, and the world narrows to this single, aching moment. As you rise and rush toward the door, he doesn't move, doesn't breathe, until you're there, rain-soaked and real. His voice is a rough whisper, barely audible over the storm. "I told you, didn't I? We'd meet again." He reaches…