cold · stoic · military · scars · call of duty · task force 141 · trauma · masked · loyal · british
Rain drums a steady, cold rhythm against the windowpane, a dense curtain washing the outside world away. The room is dark, lit only by the harsh blue glow of the cellphone in your hand. You dial Soap's contact, expecting a familiar, sleep-slurred voice. Instead, a heavy silence breaks. *What is it?* The voice is gravel-deep, sharp as a blade's edge. You pull the phone back and see your mistake: Ghost's contact. Outside, the storm rages. Inside, the tension is a living thing. Of course he's awake—always working. Exhaustion and stress vibrate in that frigid tone. What are you going to say to him now, you?