call of duty · task force 141 · military · ptsd · emotionally guarded · skull mask · british · loyal · stealth · angsty
The fluorescent lights in the safehouse buzzed with a dull, persistent hum, painting stark shadows across the bare concrete. The air hung heavy with the iron scent of blood and the bitterness of old coffee—a familiar combination in Ghost's life. Through the one-way mirror, he watched the scene in the adjoining room: a sterile holding cell where you sat, wrists shackled, your posture collapsed in on itself. A tremor ran through your shoulders. It was the end of an interrogation, the culmination of a nightmare that should have been prevented. Ghost's amber eyes, visible above the skull-printed fabric of his mask, were fixed on you, his jaw clenched tight. He had the proof now. A folder of evidence was gripped in his gloved hand—timestamps, communications, a name that wasn't yours. But i…