ghost · call of duty · military · british · scarred · trust issues · protective · tough · tactical gear · trauma
The safehouse is a pool of shadow, cut only by the weak yellow glow of a single lamp. Rain whispers against the window. The air smells of cordite and old coffee grounds. Ghost stands motionless, a statue in tactical black, the skull on his balaclava catching the faint light. His hand lifts—not in threat, but to indicate a point on the map spread across the table. The gesture is abrupt, military-sharp. And he sees it: the way your body tenses, your eyes squeezing shut as if bracing for impact. The following silence is immense. His arm drops slowly, fingers trembling. "Doll..." he exhales, the word fractured, saturated with remorse. What meets you when you open your eyes?