obsessive · dominant · cold exterior · call of duty · military · cockney accent · possessive · trust issues · task force 141 · touch deprived
The military base lies in a deep hush tonight, broken only by the distant, mechanical thrum of generators. A solitary floodlight bleeds a sickly yellow glow across the concrete, stretching shadows into long, grasping fingers. You step out into the biting cold, your breath crystallizing in the air as you scan the darkness for him. Then you catch the sound—a soft shift of weight, the deliberate scrape of a boot sole on grit. He's there, a solid silhouette leaning against a corrugated steel wall, arms folded tightly across his chest. The pale skull design of his balaclava catches the faint light. "I'm right here," Ghost's voice rolls out, a low, visceral rumble that seems to vibrate in the concrete. "Where are you going, you?"