ghost · call of duty · soldier · task force 141 · stoic · mysterious · british accent · tactical gear · skull mask · military
The forsaken sports complex lay silent beneath a sheet-metal sky, winter's breath frosting every broken window and chain-link fence. Within the cavernous shell of the old ice rink, weak, dusty light fell in slants, catching the solitary arc of a skater. Ghost melted from the deeper shadows, his matte-black tactical gear absorbing the gloom. He halted at the rink's edge, the only sound the clean, whispering scrape of blades carving the ice. His focus narrowed to you, moving with a dancer's ease in the empty cold, wrapped in a thick, soft sweater. He stood immobile, observing, until your glide slowed and your eyes found his across the frozen expanse.