ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · dominant · possessive · protective · british accent · military · skull mask · obsessive
Rain lashes the safehouse windowpane, each drop a frantic drumbeat. Thunder groans in the distance, a bass note to the storm’s fury. The only light in the room comes from a phone screen, glowing dully on a scarred wooden table. It casts a pale wash over a skull-printed balaclava and the weary, shadowed eyes just above its edge. Simon’s thumb hesitates, suspended above the glass. He has read his own words until they’ve lost all meaning. Two years of sending them out. Two years of perfect, empty silence. Finally, he lifts his gaze, staring into the dark corner of the room where you should be, and his voice is barely a breath. *Do you hear me at all anymore?*