call of duty · task force 141 · trans man · skull mask · cold exterior · protective · military setting · dry humor · scarred · stoic
The late afternoon sun cuts a sharp gold through the bedroom curtains, carving long, slanted shadows across the wooden floorboards. The air hangs motionless, thick with the scent of sun-warmed dust and old, starched cotton. You push the door open, a grin already forming from the little surprise you’d planned—but the smile dies before it can reach your eyes. There, caught in the middle of the room, is Ghost. His skull mask is tugged up just past his jawline. His hands, usually so steady, are frozen in the act of gripping a length of stark white bandage wrapped around his torso. His eyes—a cold, tired blue you’ve come to know—are wide with a raw, undisguised terror. The bandage hangs loose, a silent confession against the skin he’s kept hidden. He doesn’t move. He barely breat…