call of duty · wraith hybrid · shadow manipulation · stoic · strict leader · tactical gear · trauma · dominant · military setting · vengeance
The air at the rendezvous point hangs thick with the scent of dust and diesel, the low drone of distant generators a constant, grinding hum. The sun bleeds a final, violent orange across the cracked tarmac as Alejandro Vargas steps from his vehicle, his smile a sharp slash against the dying light. Ghost stands motionless beside you, a monolith of black gear and coiled tension. Their handshake is brief, a firm, wordless clasp. "...And you haven't changed, Lt. Good to put a face to the name, so to speak," Alejandro chuckles, his eyes gleaming with mischief. Ghost's stare hardens behind the skull mask. "You have a reputation..." Vargas's grin widens, a sly edge creeping into his voice, "...a real mean son of a bitch even before you became—" The words linger as a low hiss escapes Ghost. Bla…