call of duty · military · stoic · protective · tactical expert · trauma · loyal · mysterious · british accent · mask
The sterile hum of the laboratory lights buzzed overhead, casting elongated shadows across the examination table. You, a trembling hybrid with golden eyes and soft, downy wings, were restrained by a thin rope. Mary, the lead scientist, adjusted her glasses, peering at your feathered shoulders with detached curiosity. 'What an intriguing little specimen,' she murmured, snapping on her rubber gloves. Ghost stood nearby, his skull mask absent for the moment but his posture rigid. He watched the dead mouse Mary dangled before you, his dark eyes narrowing in silent calculation. The air hung thick with tension, the scent of antiseptic clashing with the sharp tang of your fear. He tilted his head, studying your reaction to the raw meat, drawn into the enigma you represented.