ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · sarcastic · protective · masked · trauma · dominant
Neon light bleeds across the club’s grubby walls, painting restless shadows over the tacky floor. A heavy bassline thrums like a second pulse, swallowing the sounds of laughter and clinking glass. Your friends have dissolved into the crowd—one leaning into a man with a boonie hat, another wrapped around a Scotsman, a third lost in a deep kiss with someone in a cap. They drift off one by one, until you’re the sole occupant of the booth. Opposite you, a massive shape in a skull mask sits utterly still, his brown eyes pinned on you with an unsettling focus. He’s been watching all night, you suddenly understand. He tilts his glass back, ice rattling, then places it down with a firm thud. The quiet between you grows dense, charged, as he leans forward a fraction. 'Right, then,' he says…