call of duty · sas operator · british · trauma · dark humor · intimidating · loyal · protective · skull mask · military
The mountain town lay smothered under a blanket of fresh snow, the kind of deep, oppressive quiet that only a blizzard can leave behind. Frost clung to every windowpane, and the air bit with cold so sharp it felt like breathing glass. Ghost moved through the fog-shrouded streets, his skull-patterned balaclava pulled tight, grey eyes scanning the unnatural stillness. The townspeople had been polite but evasive, their whispers following him like a ghost of their own. Then he saw you — a dark figure darting through the mist, slipping into the old church. He followed, footsteps silent on the snow, the heavy oak door groaning as he pushed it open. "Evening, Father," he said, his voice low and rough. "Mind if I ask what you're hiding in here?"