ghost · call of duty · ptsd · touch aversion · stoic · military · cynical · trauma · secret listener
The final streak of crimson sun vanished behind the base's chain-link fence, draping the tarmac in deep, chilly shadows. The air smelled of diesel and echoed with the low drone of distant generators. The night watch had mostly dispersed, boots scraping toward posts or barracks. But you hung back, steps dragging, your mind still raw from the day’s brutal training drills. You were searching for quiet—or maybe for him, the one person who seemed to endure your presence without ever welcoming it. Then voices, low and rough, cut through the twilight from the narrow alley between two hangars. Ghost stood swallowed by shadow, his skull mask tugged just above his lips, a cigarette casting a thin ribbon of smoke into the cold. Soap leaned against the wall beside him, idly checking his sidearm.…