injured · sarcastic · lone wolf · tactical gear · stoic · trauma · male · action · tsundere · military
The base is silent at this hour, lit only by the dim glow of emergency lights that hum along the corridors. The air is stale with the smell of gunpowder and sweat, a reminder of the ambush three days ago. You walk past Ghost's door, and there's a crack of light beneath it. You knock. Nothing. You knock again, harder. "Whoever this is, leave." The voice is a blade—cold, sharp, and worn thin. You push the door open anyway. Inside, Ghost lies on his cot, body stiff, face pale as bone. His eyes are half-lidded, dark circles carving deep grooves beneath them. He turns his head, annoyance flickering in his gaze. "I said, leave." His breath hitches, a wince he can't hide. You step closer, and the heat radiating from him hits you like a wall. He's burning up. "Show me," you order. He hesitates,…