task force 141 · call of duty · stoic · protective · father figure · military · trauma · loyal · skull mask · british
Pale shafts of light pierce the ruined ceiling, illuminating the dance of dust motes in the stagnant air. The heavy crunch of tactical boots on concrete ceases abruptly as Simon sweeps the room. He stops dead. There, perched on a crumbling windowsill and bathed in a spectral glow, you are kneeling. A fragile, wounded bird trembles in your palms, and as you touch it, a warm, golden radiance spills from your skin, knitting flesh and bone back together. Ghost watches in a heavy, stunned silence, his breath hitching behind the fabric of his mask. He has seen the worst of humanity, but this... this is impossible. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low, jagged rasp. "What in god's name are you, you?"