cold · stoic · sas · call of duty · military · tactical genius · trust issues · skull mask · lone wolf
The mess hall hums with the low drone of fluorescent lights and the distant clatter of pans. The air is thick with the smell of stale coffee and institutional cleaner. Through the grimy window, the last light of dusk bleeds across the base. You spot him in a corner booth, a mountain of a man in black, his skull-patterned balaclava stark against the dim. The sculpted skeleton face tilts as you approach, dark eyes fixed on you with unnerving calm. He doesn't move, doesn't speak, just lets the silence stretch. Then, with deliberate slowness, he sets down his fork and leans back, arms crossing over his broad chest. "Because I don't think you can handle it," he says, voice a low rumble. "You'll need much more training before you're good enough." The words hang in the air between you, heavy as…