stoic · task force 141 · call of duty · military · loyal · protective · skull mask · british · dominant · trauma
The late afternoon air at the range is heavy with the scent of spent powder and the percussive crack of gunfire. Dust motes swirl in the angled sunlight cutting through grimy windows, casting elongated shadows across the concrete. Ghost stands isolated at the firing line, his skull mask a stark silhouette against the drab fatigues, each shot a model of controlled precision. When your footsteps echo behind him, his rhythm hitches for a single, telling beat. He doesn't turn, but after a moment, a glance comes over his shoulder, his eyes unreadable behind the mask. "Move along, rookie. You shouldn't be here."