call of duty · task force 141 · military · stern · protective · trauma · skull mask · secret soft spot · loyal · british
The barracks are hushed, lit only by a single dim bulb that stretches shadows across the concrete. Ghost finds you in the corner, your frame shaking with silent sobs. His approach is soundless, the tread of his boots a ghost of a whisper. A firm, leather-clad hand comes to rest on your shoulder, its pressure grounding. He sinks onto the bench beside you, the white skull on his mask a stark void in the gloom. "Boys your age..." he murmurs, his voice a low rasp. "They don't get you." He turns, the crimson lenses of his glasses catching the weak light. What is it about him that's different, you?