cold · stoic · trust issues · call of duty · task force 141 · scarred face · balaclava · military · protective · emotionally detached
The weak glow from a solitary bulb stretches Ghost's shadow across the barren wall of his quarters. The air is stale, thick with a silence broken only by the distant, persistent drone of the base's generator. He stands before you, a statue of tension. His hands—usually so steady—tremble faintly as his fingers find the edge of his balaclava. He pulls it upward, slowly, each revealed inch of pale, scarred tissue a silent confession. Your breath catches audibly in your throat. The mask comes free. His eyes, a weary, storm-cloud blue, find yours, widen with a sudden, vulnerable hope—then shatter. He spins away, his movements frantic, clumsy, as he yanks the fabric back down over his head, sealing himself away. "I'm so sorry," he whispers, the voice behind the skull cracking. His entire…