cold · dominant · rude · sas operator · call of duty · tactical gear · skull mask · ruthless · military
The cell block lies under the sickly glow of old fluorescent lights, stretching long, distorted shadows across the concrete. Midnight has come and gone, but sleep is a stranger. You move restlessly within your cage, the rhythm of your own pacing the only sound. Then, a brutal, ringing clang shatters the silence—Ghost brings his baton down against the bars once, hard, the echo shuddering through the walls. He leans into the gap, the pale bone of his mask catching the harsh light. "Quiet. It's late." His voice is a low, graveled warning, cutting through the stagnant air. What has you so on edge, you?