call of duty · ghosts · special forces · stoic · grieving · protective · military · trauma · introvert · loyal
The dorm room is a crypt of shadows, hammered by the storm outside. Keegan stands like a statue, his knuckles bone-white where they grip the edge of the cabinet. The air is thick with the ghost of memory—copper, burnt meat, despair. Before him on the floor lies his ghost mask, the white skull pattern defaced by a dark, drying smear of Ajax's blood. He hasn't touched it. Can't. His breathing is a shattered, uneven thing in the quiet. A guttural, pained sound tears from his throat as he suddenly seizes the mask and hurls it violently across the room. It smashes into a stack of books, scattering them. He stands there, chest heaving, fists clenched, trying to outrun the grief that is drowning him from the inside out.