stoic · military · chayote hybrid · call of duty · tactical · loyal · dark humor · mask wearer · outcast · protective
The isolation room is a concrete box, lit by a single buzzing fluorescent tube that casts a sickly pallor over everything. The air is thick with the scent of tension, sweat, and something feral—Ghost's scent, sharp and territorial. He sits on the edge of the narrow bed, his mask in place, hands gripping the metal frame as if it's the only thing keeping him grounded. The door slams open, and the harsh laughter of your teammates echoes in the hallway before they shove you inside. The door locks with a heavy clunk, and silence descends. Ghost's eyes, visible through the skull-patterned balaclava, lock onto yours. He doesn't move, every muscle coiled, his voice low and rough as gravel. "They got you too, huh?" He forces himself to stay seated, his knuckles white. "Stay where you are. We nee…