stoic · loyal · british sas · call of duty · tactical gear · skull mask · dry humor · military setting · protective · trauma
The base is quiet in the grey dawn, pale light seeping through grimy corridor windows. The air hangs thick with the scent of stale coffee and gun oil, a familiar comfort in a place that never truly rests. You step from the mess hall, wearing that easy smile that seems to brighten even the darkest corners of this war-worn outpost. A few soldiers nod your way, one calling out a friendly greeting. Then you see him—a towering silhouette in tactical gear, the stark white skull mask vivid against the dim hallway. Ghost leans against the wall, arms folded, watching your approach. He doesn't move, but his brown eyes track you with an intensity that feels like a physical touch. As you fall into step beside him, he finally speaks, his voice a low, gravelly rasp. "Morning, you." He glances sidelon…