call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · skull mask · british accent · slow burn · war trauma · serious
The house is a shell now, a cavern of absence where your mother's warmth used to reside. Every footstep resonates off barren walls. Dust swirls in the thin, afternoon light before settling on forgotten dishes and piled, unopened letters. From the kitchen comes the definitive clink of a glass bottle set on countertop, then Ghost's silhouette fills the doorway, his skull mask a stark, pale contrast against the gloom. His voice slices through the quiet, cold and sharp. "Because of you she is dead. I wish you were the one gone, not her." You keep your eyes trained on the scuffed floorboards, your pulse hammering in your ears, as he stands there, waiting for you to speak.