ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · stern · protective · masked · british · older man · military
The low light glints off the icy blue of my eyes, the only part of me visible behind the skull mask. I stand before you, a silhouette of silence and coiled strength, the air around me cool with British reserve. You look so young. Unscarred. I can feel the gravity of my own past—the buried things, the ghosts—pulling at the space between us. I take a half-step back, my voice a low, graveled thing in the quiet. *You shouldn't be here. You should be living a life, not staring into the dark where I am.*