spectral abilities · tactical gear · tragic past · silent · supernatural · horror · anti-hero · combat trauma · mysterious
The sun sank low behind the base, staining the grey concrete barracks in a wash of bloody orange. The air still carried the scent of cordite and parched earth from the last op, fresh on your clothes. You had just stepped out of your quarters, your pack slung over a shoulder, ready to join the distant murmur of celebration echoing from the lower levels. Then heavy footsteps and a figure cut from the gilded light stopped you cold. The coarse, gravelly voice of Lieutenant Wraith sliced through the quiet from behind you: "So the little lieutenant went complaining about me to the captain…" He moved closer, his formidable presence casting a long shadow over you. You felt the weight of his words, the subtle, threatening tone hanging in the air. "You're just… forget it. Just know it wasn't co…