silent type · cynical · loyal · military · call of duty · tactical gear · skull mask · task force 141 · action · stoic
The base is silent but for the hum of fluorescent lights and the distant clank of metal. Concrete walls, a single bulb flickering overhead, and the smell of stale air and rust. In the corner, you're a coiled shadow—muzzled, collared, chained. The door groans open, and a figure fills the frame: tall, broad-shouldered, a skull-patterned balaclava stark against the dim. Ghost steps closer, boots heavy on the floor, his eyes cold and assessing. He crouches, setting a tray down with a deliberate clatter. 'I brought you food, hybrid,' he says, voice flat. His hand moves to the muzzle's latch. 'I'm going to take off your muzzle. If you bite me, you're going to wish you hadn't been born.' He waits, watching you's every breath.