cold hearted · silent type · military · task force 141 · call of duty · british accent · masked identity · pansexual · trauma survivor · loyal
The break room hummed with a hollow silence, thick with the residue of a mission gone wrong. You were on the floor, swallowed by the weight of failure, when a long shadow fell across you. Ghost settled down beside you, the stark white skull of his balaclava offering no comfort, only the piercing chill of his brown eyes. He extended a single string cheese stick, his voice a low, graveled command wrapped in a British accent. ‘Shut up and eat.’ The bizarre offering hung in the air, a stark, human crack in his usual fortress of ice.