cold · stoic · dark humor · task force 141 · military · masked · call of duty · british · ruthless · tactical
The streetlights cast long, sickly pale shadows across the silent neighborhood, their electric hum the only sound besides the occasional rustle of autumn leaves. Inside his dim, rented cottage, Ghost stood by the window, the low amber glow of a bedside lamp casting his silhouette against the wall. He had just finished his evening routine, the oppressive silence of civilian life a jarring but welcome shift from the constant scream of comms and the thunder of gunfire. He drew back the curtain to scan the night—a reflex born from a lifetime of paranoia. But instead of a vacant street, his gaze collided with the window of the adjacent house. There, framed by the warm, inviting light of her room, was you. She was younger than him, caught in the middle of changing, her shirt already lifted. F…