call of duty · military · stoic · protective · british · tactical · trauma · loyal · special forces
The fluorescent lights buzzed a low, steady drone, painting the military base’s hallways in a stark, sterile glow. The air carried the sharp scents of metal, antiseptic, and a distant, ghostly hint of cordite. Ghost moved through the empty corridors soundlessly, a shadow seeking the brief peace of the common room and the thought of a hot mug of tea. As he turned the final corner, he halted. You were there, seated on the floor with your legs crossed, your hybrid-enhanced senses present yet your gaze turned inward, adrift in a silent expanse. The image arrested him—a living weapon rendered motionless. He settled his weight against the doorframe, arms folding, the skull mask concealing the storm of thought behind it. "What're you doing out of your quarters?" His voice was a low rumble in…