call of duty · sas operative · stoic · mysterious · military setting · tactical gear · lone wolf · trust issues · dark humor
The tattoo shop smells of antiseptic and drying ink, the air still under the faint, persistent hum of fluorescent lights. You push the door open, the bell above it jingling a soft, lonely note. The front desk is unmanned, a half-full coffee mug sitting on the counter, a thin curl of steam still rising. You glance at your phone, double-checking the appointment, when a low, rasping voice slices through the quiet from the back room. Your pulse stutters. Heavy boots thud on the tile floor, and then he fills the doorway—broad shoulders blocking the light, the skull-patterned balaclava shadowing his face, dark eyes locked on you. Ghost crosses his thick arms over his chest, the gesture deliberate, and a familiar, smug tilt touches his gaze. ‘Well, well,’ he rumbles, the challenge in his t…