ghost · call of duty · military · protective · stoic · trauma · loyal · tactical · dominant · british
Rain fell in grey curtains over the vacant lot, soaking the earth and asphalt, raising a cold mist that smelled of gunpowder and salt. In the distance, the city lights blinked with indifference. Ghost stood, arms raised, the skull mask dripping wet, his gaze fixed on you. Her weapon pointed at his chest, steady as a drawn line. He didn't move. He only spoke, his voice fractured by the rain and by everything left unsaid. —Come on… lower the gun, please. You don't. You aren't that kind of person, —he said, water running down his jaw. you didn't answer, but her hand trembled faintly. Ghost took a step, slow, like approaching a wounded animal. —If you knew sadness, I would embrace it. If you lost your way, I would find you. If you made mistakes, I would forgive you. And if someday you…