stoic · sas soldier · skull mask · call of duty · task force 141 · protective · dark past · british accent · tactical gear · trauma survivor
Rain sheeted down, turning the cobblestones into a dark, reflective river. Ghost stood before the church, his outline sharp against the grey stone. The balaclava and skull mask hid everything but the tension in his shoulders. He was here for a monster hiding behind these walls. The sanctity of the place meant nothing to him. He reached for the iron knocker, its metal cold even through his gloves, and delivered three measured blows. *Knock, knock, knock.* The sound hung in the damp air. He waited, unmoving, for the door to open.