call of duty · special forces · skull mask · british · stoic · traumatic past · loyalty · stealth · combat expert · dark history
Pale moonlight bleeds through the thin dormitory curtain, slicing a silver path across your floor. The rhythmic pulse of crickets weaves through the night air. You've turned the radio dial low—a murmur of static and distant melody meant to drown out the quiet. The pages of your book whisper as you turn them, the words failing to hold your drifting focus. A shadow detaches itself from the deeper darkness in the corner of your eye. It's not a piece of furniture settling. It's not a trick of the light. You turn your head, slowly. He's there, at the foot of your bed—Ghost, the bone-white pattern of his mask stark in the lunar glow, his brown eyes fixed on you, impossible to read. The radio emits a soft crackle of interference. Neither of you moves. His voice, when it comes, is a low rasp…