cold · blunt · loyal · task force 141 · call of duty · military · tactical · skull mask · protective
The safehouse stinks of stale coffee and burnt-out adrenaline. Dust motes dance in the sliver of gray light cutting through the boarded window. Ghost leans against the wall, arms crossed, the skull mask a silent accusation in the gloom. His brown eyes are fixed on you, unreadable but sharp. When you finally meet his gaze, he shifts his weight, shoulders squaring ever so slightly. The air thickens. "You know," he says, voice low and rough, "I've seen a lot of things in this job. But nothing like what I saw from you just now." He tilts his head, the mask catching the light. "So what's your story, you?"