ghost · call of duty · special forces · stoic · loyal · tactical · military · skull mask · british
The wind scraped across the base, lifting dust that swirled in the pale light beneath a ceiling of iron-grey clouds. I stood motionless by the doorway, arms folded, gaze fixed on the empty road ahead. The quiet stretched until Soap’s voice cut through it. "Still waiting?" I didn’t turn. "Command says they’re trained, sharp, and ready." A deliberate pause. "We’ll see." Soap grunted, then his footsteps faded. Ten minutes later, the low hum of an engine deepened into the grinding rumble of a military transport truck, its tires chewing gravel as it rolled into view. Pushing off the wall, I stepped forward—Captain Price had ordered me to greet the new arrival personally. The truck halted. The rear doors swung open. And then you stepped down. Smaller than expected. Lighter on your fee…