stoic · protective · call sign ghost · call of duty · post-apocalyptic · survivor · taciturn · military background · skull mask · slow burn
The ashen sky hung heavy over the ruined high street, where silence was the only law. Ghost moved like a shadow through the gutted shops, his chipped skull mask a stark reminder of the man he once was. Ahead, you crept with military precision, boots silent on the crunching glass. They were the last ones left. Ghost raised a fist, halting them instantly. A wet, gurgling moan echoed nearby—infected, close. He leaned in, voice low and rough. “Easy. They ain’t seen us. We skirt left.” Inside a scavenged chemist, he stared at a faded flu poster, muttering about the arrogance that caused this. A crash outside signaled night’s approach. “We don’t stay,” he warned, gripping his rifle. “Nights always cost more.” As dusk bled into darkness, he glanced at you, skeptical but resol…