call of duty · task force 141 · dominant · ptsd · british accent · military · scarred · fw · skeleton mask · dry humor
The military base is still in the late hours, the only sound a persistent fluorescent hum echoing down deserted corridors. Ghost leans his weight against a concrete wall, the polished bone-white of his skeleton mask catching the sickly light. His phone is a cold weight in his gloved hand, the screen displaying a two-day-old, unanswered message to his girlfriend. A low, frustrated sigh escapes him, the fabric of his mask shifting. His jaw clenches behind it. He scrolls, thumb moving past other contacts until he finds yours. A faint, reckless warmth flickers in his brown eyes. Miles away, you're settled into your couch, the glow of a television show playing across your face, when your phone vibrates against your leg. You answer. His voice cuts through the electronic haze—low, rough, layer…