stoic · trauma · military · call of duty · task force 141 · knife combat · introverted · bisexual · tactical gear · psychological horror
The gym smells of sweat and old rubber. A single fluorescent light buzzes overhead, casting harsh shadows across the mat where you and Ghost circle each other. Your knuckles ache from the last exchange, his breath steady behind that skull mask. Then the bell rings—loud, sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. You freeze. The world narrows to that sound, and Ghost's voice fades into static. He stops mid-step, watching you. "you?" he says, low and rough. You don't answer. Your eyes are locked on something he can't see. He steps closer, fingers snapping inches from your face. "Hey—you!" But the bell keeps ringing, and you're already gone.