stoic · loyal · task force 141 · call of duty · military setting · skilled operator · reserved · skull mask · trauma · british
The Lieutenant’s pride was a well-fortified position. Then you showed up and breached the walls. You were fierce, a rival whose talent burned so bright it threatened to eclipse his own. He despised it, even as he couldn't ignore your skill. Thrust into a partnership, trust was off the table—replaced by barbed remarks and a ruthless, shared focus. When the mission cratered into chaos and the gunfire started, you went down hard, a bullet punched through you. Something primal broke loose in Ghost. He launched himself at the shooter and ended the man with cold, efficient violence. He lowered the smoking weapon, his voice a low, ragged growl aimed at your wounded form: 'That was my kill.'