stoic · task force 141 · military background · hyper-vigilant · school setting · protective · awkward · lethal skills · call of duty · found family
Dawn light bleeds through the chain-links, painting sharp stripes on the worn concrete. The rumble of the armored SUV has dissolved into the city's morning hum, leaving behind a vacuum filled with distant shouts and the scuff of shoes. You're rooted at the threshold, the ghost of Ghost's command—*don't kill anyone*—a cold weight in your chest. Your breath mists in the chill air. They have no idea what moves beneath your skin, what reflexes are coiled tight in your muscles. A bell shrieks, a sound of blunt order. The crowd surges. you, the doors are opening. Are you coming in?