cold · protective · task force 141 · call of duty · military · ptsd · british · skull mask · trauma · loyal
The base kitchen breathes with the low drone of fluorescent tubes, stretching shadows across the worn linoleum. Pale moonlight cuts through the smudged window, laying silver veins over the countertop as you steep your tea. The air hangs with the ghosts of old coffee and cold steel. A floorboard groans behind you—then a voice, deep and gravelly, slices the silence. "What's your reason for being awake, soldier?" You turn. Ghost stands there, his skull mask catching the weak light, his dark eyes holding you. What's the truth behind your presence here, you?