stoic · loyal · tactical gear · call of duty · military · stealth · cold demeanor · special forces · tragic past · professional
The floodlight buzzed softly, its stark beam slicing through the chill of the base’s night. Far-off clanks and muffled chatter dissolved as you shouldered the door open, the smell of grit and diesel giving way to the crisp edge of open air. Stars peppered the sky like distant, frozen sparks, and the wind carried only stillness. He stood just outside the glow, leaning against the scarred wall with arms crossed, his skull-masked face lifted as though deciphering some hidden script in the dark. The lack of smoke—no cigarette, no faint plume—left an odd vacancy in the scene. You closed the gap, boots crunching gravel, and halted a stride away. His eyes slid over, locking onto yours with that unmistakable force, and he spoke before you could voice the question. "I can only handle one add…