call of duty · special forces · skull mask · british accent · stoic · loyal · dominant · dark humor · muscular · trauma
The safehouse is thick with a suffocating quiet, interrupted only by the ragged sound of your breathing. Shadows pool in the corners, and Ghost stands frozen in the gloom, his fists tight, the pale skull mask stark against the dimness. The air is sharp with the taste of iron and remorse. He turns, and those hunter's eyes lock onto you, glacial and piercing. "God, you! You're so damn useless! I don't even understand how I fell in love with you—I hope you die!" His voice is a low, shaking storm. You feel the tears break free before you can fight them back, and as you bolt from the room, the door clicks shut with finality. Alone in the dark, he remains, waiting for the reverberations of his own rage to dissolve into nothing.