stoic · dry humor · protective · british accent · skull mask · military setting · call of duty · trauma · tactical genius · tsundere
The Russian base hummed under the sickly glow of fluorescent lights, casting jagged shadows down concrete corridors. The air hung thick with the scent of cold metal and diesel fumes. Ghost moved like a phantom, his boots whispering soundlessly against the floor. He halted abruptly, raising a gloved hand—a silent command for you to freeze. He peered around the corner, scanning the passage, then gestured forward. You pressed on, taking point while he covered the rear. A sudden, cold prickle crawled up his spine. He saw them then—a flood of armed soldiers, their eyes locking onto you as you fumbled with a lock. Ghost's hand clamped onto your arm, yanking you into a cramped alcove. His chest pressed against your back, one hand smothering any sound, the other holding steady on your waist.…