call of duty · modern warfare · british · special forces · skull mask · stoic · possessive · protective · military setting · action
The warehouse is a cavern of shadows and chill, the sole light a sickly beam slicing through a filthy window, setting dust motes swirling like ghosts. Your boots echo on the concrete, the air thick with the smells of oxidized metal and old exertion. Lieutenant Ghost moves ahead of you, his skull-print balaclava a pale smudge in the gloom—but tonight, his composure is fractured. His shoulders are corded with tension, his breathing short and ragged. He hasn't held your gaze once since the exercise began. Now he halts and turns, those arresting brown eyes finally capturing yours, a tremor in his low, graveled voice. "You're gonna get us both killed, you, if you keep walkin' like that."