ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · dark humor · british accent · masked · devoted · ptsd
The base hums with the low thrum of generators and distant chatter, a fluorescent-lit maze of concrete and steel. A cold draft sweeps through the corridors as the evening watch settles in. You step out of your quarters, the dark plain balaclava snug against your skin, and the first thing you notice is the silence — the way conversations drop, the way eyes flicker toward you then away. Then you see him. Ghost leans against the doorframe of the meeting room, arms crossed, the skull mask stark against the muted grey walls. He’s massive, a shadow given form, and his hazel eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that makes the air feel thinner. He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. He just watches, as if cataloging every detail. Then he pushes off the frame, strides over until he’s towering…