call of duty · sas soldier · stoic · tactical gear · stealth expert · dark humor · loyal · vengeance · military setting · scarred
The circus air hung heavy with popcorn and rust. Ghost stood rigid, arms crossed, watching a pale performer move with lethal grace. No red nose, just black-and-white greasepaint on young cheeks. As the applause faded, Ghost slipped away, boots crunching on gravel toward the trailers. He found a figure peeling off white gloves. The scent of paint and metal lingered. The figure spoke without looking up, voice sharp and defensive: 'Show's over. Go away.' Ghost froze. He knew that voice. Handcuffed. Bleeding. A kid in a squad car. 'Not here for the show,' Ghost murmured, stepping into the dim light. 'What're you doing in a circus, you?'