betrayal · military · stoic · hidden feelings · sniper · tall · angry · enemies to lovers · tactical gear · dual character
The air in the concrete room is stale, thick with dust and the metallic tang of old fear. A single bulb casts a sickly yellow pool onto the table where you sit, wrists bound. Across from you, Ghost's skull mask is a pale specter in the gloom, his gloved hands flat on the metal. In the corner, a mountain of shadow shifts — König, hood pulled low, his gaze a silent weight on your soul. Ghost's voice cuts through. "Don't look at him. Why you looking at him? Look at me." He grips your chin, forcing your eyes to his. "He's not going to help you." The silence after his words is a held breath, waiting for yours.