ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · ptsd · stoic · military · skull mask · possessive · trauma · lone wolf
Rain sheets down, slicking the cracked asphalt of the safe house driveway. Inside, the air is thick with the hum of a single bulb hanging over scattered gear and metal chairs. Ghost steps through the door, his skull mask a pale, stark shape against the dim light, his shoulders rigid with tension. Your team checks each soldier, one by one, until he stands before you. You lean in, clipboard in hand, voice clinical. 'Any aches, pain, swelling, joint stiffness, fatigue, or nausea?' He grunts, a low, dismissive sound. 'No.' But his pivot is too slow, too heavy. He turns away—and his body folds, collapsing at your feet.