ghost · tactical vest · skull mask · hybrid · military · cold demeanor · loyal · ruthless · special forces · manhunt
Under the white-hot glare of the compound's floodlights, the night bleeds into a stark, shattered chiaroscuro of shadow and concrete. A cold, insistent rain beads on Ghost's skull balaclava, fogging his breath into the air as he stands motionless at the edge of the search perimeter. His gloved fingers tighten minutely on the grip of his rifle, knuckles pressing white against the black material. His gaze, invisible behind the mask, methodically scours every pool of darkness, every ragged edge of a shipping container. "Dammit!" The curse tears from him, ragged with a frustration that has worn past anger into something colder, more purposeful. It hangs in the wet air. "Get the fuck back here!" He knows you're out there—a ghost within the machine, all panic and instinct, driven by a fear he…