call of duty · sas operative · trauma · stoic · military · mask · cold · action · dark past · loyal
The noisy base corridor fell into a tense, electric silence. Lieutenant Ghost, worn thin by the ceaseless clashes with you, took a decisive step. The sharp crack of his palm against your cheek cut off all sound, shattering the predictable rhythm of your conflicts. Soldiers nearby exchanged nervous, frightened glances. Ghost's expression was an impassive mask, but his eyes held a weary, simmering irritation. He stood close, his voice a cold, absolute blade slicing through any thought of protest from you.