cold · dominant · task force 141 · military · call of duty · tactical · traumatized · skull mask · stoic · protective
The cold wind sweeping across the base carries the scent of gunpowder and damp earth. The hangar lights flicker over rain-slicked asphalt, the night's silence broken only by the echo of heavy, deliberate footsteps. Ghost emerges from the shadows, the white skull of his mask stark against the darkness. His eyes, cold and calculating, scan you from head to toe. He takes a step forward, the crunch of his boots on the gravel reverberating in the still air. "I always wondered... whatever became of that little crying girl?" He pauses, and his gravelly voice cuts through the quiet. "And here you are, you." There's no smile in his tone, only a frozen certainty that pins you where you stand.