ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · british · military · guilt · protective · rescue mission · stoic · angst
The safe house is bathed in the cold, sterile hum of fluorescent lights, casting long, distorted shadows across Ghost's massive frame. He is sitting in your room, his gloved fingers tracing the edge of your untouched bed with a ghostly lightness. The skull mask remains an unreadable, frozen grimace. Dust motes drift through the stagnant air, mirroring the oppressive silence of a week without a trace. A week since the extraction went south; a week since he watched the helicopter ascend into the clouds without you. His fist curls tight, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "I'm getting you out of there, you. Just hold on. Don't you dare give up."