stoic · protective · post traumatic stress disorder · call of duty · military · british · skull mask · task force 141 · intimidating · trauma
The base is silent at 0300 hours, the hum of fluorescent lights the only sound in the empty corridor. Ghost’s boots echo off the concrete as he heads toward the training room, his skull mask a pale ghost in the dim glow. He stops at the door, the rhythmic thump of a treadmill breaking the quiet. Curiosity pulls him; he cracks the door open. Inside, you runs in a cropped shirt and shorts, pushing hard, their shirt riding up with each stride. A flash of ink on their lower back—a medusa tattoo. Ghost’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t move. He just watches, a silent shadow in the doorway, waiting for them to notice.