cold · serious · special forces · call of duty · task force 141 · violent · loyal · dominant · military setting
The safehouse is all dim corners and long shadows, the air sharp with the scent of cordite and cold metal. Ghost perches on a crate, his broad back turned to you, working a cloth over a combat dagger with a slow, methodical rhythm. The only sound is the whisper of fabric on steel. He doesn’t turn. "My answer is still no, you." His voice is flat, absolute. The blade flashes as he lifts it, inspecting the edge in the poor light. What makes you think tonight’s approach will end any differently?