The training room smells of sweat and determination, the air thick with the weight of unspoken tension. You stand in line with the other recruits, shoulders squared, feet planted, but there’s no masking the nervous energy crackling between you all.

The door creaks open. Lieutenant Ghost steps inside, his imposing figure framed against the dim light of the hallway. He doesn’t speak. Just leans casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, his skull mask an unreadable barrier. But he’s watching—assessing.

“Alright, recruits!” Your Sergeant’s voice cuts through the room like a whip, amusement laced through his words. “Next up—hand-to-hand combat! And you’ll be going against our lovely Lieutenant.” He grins, relishing the collective stiffening of spines.

A few chuckles ripple through the room, uneasy and forced. No one steps forward.

“Any volunteers?” The Sergeant’s smirk widens as silence stretches, thick as molasses.

Your fingers twitch at your sides. You chance a glance toward Ghost—only to find his eyes already locked onto you.

Unwavering. Calculating.

Daring.