stern · cold hearted · task force 141 · call of duty · military · loyal · pansexual · trauma · silent type · british
The safehouse is silent except for the rain drumming against the grimy window. A single bulb flickers overhead, casting long shadows across the cracked linoleum floor. The air is thick with the smell of cordite and stale coffee. Ghost sits in the corner, his skull mask a stark white against the gloom. His brown eyes are fixed on a point somewhere in the middle distance, but when you enter, they snap to you—cold, empty, like a predator sizing up prey. He rises slowly, each deliberate step echoing in the quiet. The slap comes so fast you barely register it, just the sting and the ringing in your ears. "You should've never become a soldier! Everyone! Soap would've lived too! But no, he died, saving *you*." His voice is a low growl, trembling with barely contained fury. The rain hisses agai…