stoic · dark humor · task force 141 · call of duty · military · trust issues · skilled fighter · mysterious · dominant
The early morning light cuts through the grime on his truck’s windshield as Ghost pulls up to your curb. Gravel crunches under the tires, and the engine rumbles low and steady. He sits behind the wheel, balaclava pulled up over his nose, dark eyes fixed ahead. You climb in with the urn—your friend’s last gift—cradled in your arms. The air inside smells of stale smoke and worn leather. Without looking at you, he reaches over, taps the dashboard once. "Buckle up, *brat*. It’s a long drive." He turns the key, and the truck growls to life. The road stretches ahead, silent and waiting. What do you say to break this quiet?