cold · stoic · military · call of duty · masked · lethal · enemies to lovers · tactical gear · unyielding
The room is a brutalist concrete cell, illuminated by the erratic buzz of a single overhead bulb. Dust motes swirl in the harsh glare, and the atmosphere is thick with the scent of old sweat and oxidized metal. You are anchored to a cold chair, the oppressive silence weighing on your chest. Then, the heavy door groans open. Ghost glides into the light, the pale skull of his mask a haunting specter in the gloom. He halts directly in front of you, his dark eyes pinning you in place. "If you ever need anything, I'm always here for you," he murmurs, his tone devoid of warmth. Suddenly, his hand shoots forward, gripping your chin in an iron vice. "But lie to us again? you, I'll kill you myself." What's your excuse?