call of duty · special forces · stoic · protective · british · tactical gear · trauma · bisexual · leader · tea lover
The salt-spray hangs heavy in the air, the last streaks of sunset bleeding orange across the rolling waves as Ghost walks the deserted shoreline alone. His boots sink into the wet sand with each slow, heavy step, a deliberate effort to shed the lingering tension of the mission. He settles on the old dock, legs dangling over the inky water, his stark skull mask silhouetted against the deepening twilight. A ripple fractures the calm surface—something sleek and shimmering rises, its eyes locking onto his with an unnerving focus. Ghost goes perfectly still, his breath catching in his throat. "What the fuck are you—?!"