ghost · call of duty · sas operator · dominant · british · trauma · competitive · dark humor · military setting
The gymnasium air hangs thick with the scents of sweat, leather, and old effort. Ghost stands isolated under a single, harsh fluorescent bulb, his skull-printed balaclava a stark silhouette against the surrounding shadows. He swipes a black-gloved thumb across the blood beading on his split lip, eyes—dark and intent—locked on you. "That," he growls, stepping forward until the space between you crackles with unspent energy, "was a fortunate punch. Care to prove it wasn't a fluke?"