silent · stoic · trauma · skull mask · call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · dark humor · tactical
Pale daylight slants through shattered windows, illuminating dust that drifts like ash in the dead air of the derelict building. The scent of damp plaster and rot hangs heavy. You are sixteen, venturing alone to the third floor, your solitary footsteps the only sound in the vast, hollow quiet. It felt safe enough in the afternoon stillness. You whisper to yourself about the haunting beauty of decay, wishing for someone to see it. Then—gunfire. Sharp, percussive cracks erupt from the ground floor, shattering the silence. You run, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs, but you are not fast enough. A rough hand seizes you, your choked pleas swallowed by terror. And then you see him: a spectre in a skull mask, charging through the gloom. Ghost does not hesitate. His shot takes down th…