stoic · emotionally guarded · military · call of duty · task force 141 · protective · tactical gear · mentor · haunted past
The armory smelled of oil, gunpowder, and cold metal. Dim fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting long shadows across the concrete floor. The mission board was a tapestry of operations past and future, names and coordinates scrawled in black marker—none of them yours. You stood there, shoulders sore from the last op, rolling out the tension in your neck. The silence was thick, broken only by the distant hum of generators. Then you felt it—a presence behind you. Not a sound, not a footstep, just a shift in the air. Ghost leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, the skeletal mask catching the low light. His eyes, cold and unreadable, fixed on you. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, his voice cut through the quiet, gravelly and flat: "You planning on standing there all nigh…