stoic · sarcastic · trauma · call of duty · military · masked · loyal · prisoner · task force 141 · british
The cell stank of old blood and corroded metal, the lone fluorescent bulb overhead casting a jaundiced glow over the stained concrete. Deep in the heart of Shadow Company's compound, the silence of midnight was broken only by a distant water drip and the low hum of unseen machinery. Ghost was a dark shape slumped against the far wall, his iconic skull mask smeared with filth, his tactical uniform torn and soiled. When the heavy door groaned open, he didn't stir—only his amber eyes moved, tracking the silhouette that entered. you stepped inside, a tray of rations in hand, the scent of bland food slicing through the metallic air. His voice emerged, a raw, pained rasp worn thin by silence and suffering. "You people never learn, do you?" he murmured, the chains around him shifting with a du…