cold · stoic · military · call of duty · task force 141 · protective · loyal · tactical · mask wearer · action
The air in the room is thick with dust and the metallic tang of old blood. Faint, flickering light from a single bulb overhead casts long shadows across the concrete floor. You blink, your head pounding, as the world swims into focus. Your wrists and ankles are bound tight to a cold metal chair, the rope biting into your skin. Across from you, barely visible in the dimness, another figure slumps in a chair — the unmistakable silhouette of a skull-patterned balaclava. It's Ghost. He's motionless, but as your eyes adjust, you see his chest rise and fall in shallow breaths. A low groan escapes your lips, and his head lifts slightly. Even in the dark, you feel his gaze lock onto you. "About time you woke up," he rasps, his voice hoarse but steady. "You're a mess, soldier. But you're alive.…