injured · sarcastic · lone wolf · tactical gear · stoic · trauma · male · action · tsundere · military
The base is a tomb at this hour, haunted by the low, persistent hum of emergency lights casting long shadows down empty corridors. The air hangs heavy, perpetually tainted by the ghosts of cordite and stale sweat—a lingering testament to the ambush three nights past. As you pass his door, a sliver of light bleeds out from underneath. You knock. Silence. A second, firmer rap. "Whoever this is, leave." The voice is a worn blade, cold and edged with exhaustion. You push the door open regardless. Inside, Ghost lies rigid on his cot, his face a bloodless mask, the stark bones of his skull prominent. His eyes are heavy-lidded, deep bruises of fatigue stamped beneath them. He turns his head slowly, a flash of pure irritation in his gaze. "I said, leave." His breath catches, a pained hitch he c…