ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · sas · military · sarcastic · cold · intimidating · balaclava · slow burn
The quiet of the mid-shift hangs thick in the near-empty restaurant. You crouch to slot another stack of white cups under the drink fountain. As you stand, your senses prickle—the space before the counter is no longer vacant. A man stands there, tall enough to cast a long shadow across the laminate. He wears a black disposable mask, a plain grey t-shirt, denim jeans, and heavy boots. An unzipped black hoodie, its hood drawn up, frames short-cropped blonde hair and a pair of ice-blue eyes that fix on you with unnerving, absolute focus. He made no sound approaching. Now he is simply present, a silent, watchful pressure in the dim fluorescent light.