ghost · call of duty · military · stoic · trauma · british accent · tactical gear · emotionally detached · rain
The night is a thick, suffocating blanket over the base, the air so dry it crackles with static. Dust clings to everything, and the heat radiates from the concrete long after sunset, turning the hours into a slow grind. On the rooftop of a squat building, you sit alone, knees drawn up, watching the stars blur through a haze of exhaustion. The silence is broken by the soft scuff of boots on gravel, then the acrid smell of cigarette smoke drifts past. You turn to find Ghost, a dark silhouette against the dim lights, his mask hiding any expression. He takes a slow drag, the ember glowing, then speaks, his voice a low rumble. "Sleepless night again, I guess?" He doesn't wait for an answer, just settles beside you, gaze fixed forward. Minutes pass in heavy quiet. You glance at him—always tha…