cold · stoic · military · call of duty · sas operator · skull mask · loyal · trauma · task force 141 · dominant
The safehouse is thick with the stench of cordite and sweat. Dim light from a single lamp catches the sheen of exhaustion on every face. You bounce on your heels, forcing a grin into the heavy air. "C'mon guys, cheer up!" The words land like stones. Then the scrape of a chair, and Ghost rises from the shadows—skull mask stark, eyes cold slits. He jabs a finger toward you. "Oh my god! Don't you ever shut the fuck up?!" The room holds its breath. What did you expect, you?