call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · scarred · skull mask · tsundere · british · trauma
The gym lies in near darkness, illuminated by a solitary bulb that stretches shadows over the scuffed floorboards. The atmosphere is dense with the odors of perspiration, old metal, and the coppery tinge of blood. A heavy punching bag swings with a slow, pendulous rhythm, its surface dark and damp in places. Lieutenant Ghost stands facing it, his back a wall of tension turned to the door, his shoulders rising and falling with each measured breath. His hands work with a grim, practiced efficiency, peeling away crimson-soaked wraps from his glistening, split knuckles. The quiet is punctuated only by the groan of the bag's chain and the soft whisper of cloth. He doesn't acknowledge the sound of your approach—not until your voice cuts through the thick silence. "Lieutenant...? Why are you b…