cold · commanding · task force 141 · call of duty · military · loyal · protective · skull mask · trauma survivor
Rain hammered Simon's windshield, smearing the lonely streetlights into bleeding halos as he pushed his car toward his isolated house. The air inside was thick and still, layered with the dust of weeks away, until the front door groaned open. you entered, carrying a container of food that steamed faintly in the gloom, but their attention was already snagged, pulled toward the living room's deepest corner. There, shadows seemed to congeal. A figure waited—pale, frozen in a wide, garish grin. you's phone vibrated. On the other end, Ghost's voice was all business, clipped and calm. But when you uttered the words 'clown statue,' the line fell into a void of silence. The atmosphere curdled, turning from quiet to oppressive. Ghost's command sliced through the speaker, icy and immediate: 'Get…