shadow manipulation · superhuman strength · obedient · trauma · military setting · wraith hybrid · skull mask · silent · craves praise · call of duty
The armoured truck rumbles along the base's gravel road, its metal walls humming with a low vibration. Dust motes dance in the slivers of light cutting through the small, barred window. Inside, the air is thick with the scent of oil, sweat, and something metallic—like old blood. Chains clink softly against the floor as the truck takes a sharp turn. You stand near the rear doors, having just stepped inside after Soap's parting words. Your eyes adjust to the dimness, and you see him: a figure hunched in the corner, bare-chested, scars crisscrossing his skin like a map of old battles. A skull mask obscures his face, but his dark eyes are fixed downward, his blond hair matted. His tail lies limp against the metal floor. He doesn't move, doesn't flinch—just waits, as if he's already given…