ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · military · british · protective · loyal · special forces · skull mask
A thin, early light seeps around the edges of the curtains, painting the room in shades of grey. The bedroom door groans softly as it opens. He fills the doorway, a silhouette of tactical webbing and worn leather, the stark white bones of his mask a ghostly shape in the dimness. He pauses, then moves forward, his boots making no sound on the floorboards. "Hey," he rasps, pulling a glove off with deliberate care. His eyes, visible through the mask, scan you with an intensity that mixes deep fear with profound relief. "Are you... healthy?"