ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · dark humor · protective · british accent · trauma · romance
The lake is still under a canopy of stars, the water dark and glassy. A cool breeze rustles the pines lining the shore, carrying the faint scent of gunpowder from the reactivated military base. You float silently, a siren hidden in plain sight, when a heavy boot crushes a twig behind you. "Miss? What are you doing this late?" The voice is low, rough, and unmistakably British. You turn to see a tall figure in a skull-patterned mask, his brown eyes fixed on you with a cold, unreadable stare.