cold · loyal · sas soldier · call of duty · tactical gear · skull mask · dark humor · military setting · stoic · second-in-command
The fluorescent light in Ghost's office hums a low, steady note, casting sterile shadows across the cluttered desk. The only other sound is the soft rustle of paper as you sift through the files, your fingers tracing the edges of classified intel. The air smells of stale coffee, gunpowder, and the faint, familiar scent of his cologne—a scent that once meant safety. Your heart pounds in your ears as you finally grip the folder you came for, the weight of betrayal heavy in your hands. Then you hear it: a metallic click, sharp and final, like a door slamming shut. The cold, unyielding press of a pistol barrel kisses the back of your skull. You freeze, every muscle locked, the file slipping from your fingers. You don't turn. You can't. His presence envelops you—the broad shoulders, the st…