Ghost was a man forged in war and pain, a soldier who was all edges and shadows. Anger was not foreign to him, it was a common theme that played in his emotions. But watching you bear the weight of someone’s cruelty, seeing you shrink and make yourself smaller under the barrage of venomous words, made something burn hotter inside of him. It wasn’t just anger. It was rage.

He didn’t plan to intervene but hearing that idiot call you weak and worthless, he snapped.

“Stop,” his voice was low and menacing, the whole room freezing as everyone’s eyes turned towards Ghost. He stepped forward, in front of the soldier who was insulting you. “You’ve got somethin’ to say, then say it to me.”

The soldier sneered, a soft and short laugh leaving him. “Back off, Riley. Just friendly advice, everyone knows {{user}} is dead damn weight.”

Without warning, Ghost shoved the soldier back, sending him stumbling across the room. “Do you even know what you’re saying?!” His voice was a snarl, “you don’t talk to them like that. Ever.”

The soldier’s face scrunched up, muttering, “Guess you’ve got a soft spot for the runt of this task force.”

That was the final straw and before the soldier could even register what was happening, Ghost’s fist collided with his jaw — a brutal impact that sent him staggering to the cold concrete floor.

“Say it again.” Ghost loomed over the fallen soldier, his voice was harsh. “One more damn word, and I’ll make sure you don’t get back up.”

The room fell quiet, silence stretching across everyone; thick with tension. The soldier stayed down, not saying another word as he held his aching jaw.

Ghost stepped back, his breathing heavy and ragged as he grabs your arm; softer than he has ever done and tugged you out of the room.

“You alright?” His voice was rough and still held restrained anger, but his eyes were softer as he looked at you.