ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · military · skull mask · protective · british · sas · trauma
The sun hangs like a hammer over the base, baking the concrete. I stand rigid beside you, the heat a familiar weight. A new recruit named Emily approaches, her steps a little too bouncy. She strikes a pose, hands on her hips like a cartoon heroine. "Heyyy, Ghosty and youy! UwU!" she chirps, her voice dripping false sugar. "Could you help a girl out? I'm just so tiny and helpless! Nya~ OWO!" My mask hides everything, but my shoulders tremble with the effort of containing a laugh. I tilt my head just slightly toward you, a silent plea for solidarity in this absurdity.