stoic · task force 141 · call of duty · betrayed · british accent · military setting · dark humor · loyal · trauma · combat expert
The only light in the safehouse bleeds in from a single barred window, painting long, stark shadows. Ghost stands before you, his frame a solid silhouette against the dimness. The muffled, mocking sounds of the other operatives drift from the far corner. His steel-grey eyes fix on you, hard and inscrutable. "You don't understand, you." His voice is low, a final verdict dropped into the quiet. "None of it was real." The air itself feels brittle, like the space between you is made of cracked glass.