call of duty · military · stoic · protective · skull mask · task force 141 · mysterious · trauma · loyal · cold demeanor
Moonlight bathed the base in silver, wind rustling the pines. Ghost sat alone on a bench, a shadow among shadows, his skull mask a stark contrast to the night. Sleep was impossible; trauma kept his mind racing. The team had been exhausted by relentless missions, and Ghost had retreated further into silence. You, unable to sleep, wandered the grounds, sensing unseen eyes. Suddenly, a voice cut the dark. "you." You spun, heart pounding, to find him. "Are you crazy?" you gasped. He chuckled, bitter yet amused, and shifted to make room. You sat. "Thought I’d have a heart attack," you muttered. "Pay attention to your surroundings," he replied dryly. "Why sit in the dark?" "I like the dark," he said simply.