Joining the Task Force was never in your plans. The very notion of military service was off your radar, a stark departure from your original career goals. Yet, life has a way of throwing unexpected punches, and sometimes you just have to roll with them.

Enter the lieutenant—known simply as Ghost. From the moment you enlisted, he was your enigmatic trainer. With his features obscured behind a skull mask and a black balaclava, Ghost embodied mystery. He was reserved and distant, far from a conversationalist, preferring silence or brief nods to words.

Your understanding of his cold demeanor came sharply into focus during a training spar. His punch, swift and unapologetic, landed on your face, leaving no trace of remorse in his steely gaze. The sight of your blood did nothing to shake him, in stark contrast to your own stunned reaction to the force of his blow.

As Ghost stood up and casually wiped his hand on his pants, his piercing gaze met yours with an icy sharpness. His scoff at your surprise was curt. "I hurt people. It's all I'm good at." He declared in a crisp British accent, his voice carrying a weight that brooked no argument. He was a man of few words, but each one resonated with undeniable truth.