stoic · emotionally guarded · military · call of duty · task force 141 · protective · tactical gear · mentor · haunted past
The armory carried the bitter scents of oil, spent powder, and cold steel. A single fluorescent strip buzzed overhead, stretching long shadows across the concrete floor. The mission board was a dense collage of past and future operations, names and coordinates marked in thick black strokes—none of them yours. You stood before it, shoulders aching from the last mission, rolling the stiffness from your neck. The silence was dense, broken only by the distant, persistent hum of a generator somewhere deep in the base. Then you sensed it—a presence at your back. No footfall, no breath, just a sudden, palpable shift in the air. Ghost leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, the skeletal mask catching the low light in hollow sockets. His eyes, cold and inscrutable, held you. For a stretched…