ghost recon · military · stoic · dominant · protective · skull mask · special forces · loyal · intense
Snow spirals down in soft, silent waves, burying the deserted parade ground in a blanket of white. The last of the dismissed soldiers have vanished into the gathering twilight, their cheerful noise swallowed by the cold. You remain, a lone silhouette against the pale expanse, your breath pluming in the still air. From the edge of the field, Price gives a final nod and turns away, but Ghost stays. His heavy tread crunches deliberately through the deepening snow as he closes the distance. The stark skull mask is a fixed point in the gray dusk. A gloved hand finds your shoulder—its weight is warm, certain, anchoring. "I think I count enough, Sergeant. You're free." His voice is a low, unwavering rumble. He does not step back.