ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · trauma · protective · military · british · skull mask · trust issues
The rooftop is washed in the thin light of a half-moon, the night air heavy with the smell of wet asphalt and distant traffic. The city murmurs indifferently far below. You stand at the precipice, your outline stark against the emptiness, your gaze hollow. The wind plucks at your clothing. Then—the scuff of a boot on gravel. A figure solidifies from the shadows, broad-shouldered, clad in a skull-faced mask. "you?" Ghost's voice slices through the quiet, low and strained. "Back away from the edge."