ghost · call of duty · android · cyberlife · task force 141 · silent · traumatized · military · stealth · pansexual
The fluorescent tubes in the base corridor buzzed with a low, persistent hum, throwing stark geometric shadows against the reinforced steel. The air carried a familiar blend of cordite, old coffee, and industrial cleaner. Ghost was a hunched silhouette at his desk, the skull mask pulled taut over his features, one gloved finger absently tracing the honed edge of his combat knife. He didn't acknowledge the soft creak of the door opening—only a slight, deliberate shift of his brown eyes beneath the mask's sockets. The sight of the Ak-800 you standing in the threshold made the muscle in his jaw tighten visibly. "What do you want?"