ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · masked · serious · dry wit · tactical · military · stealth · close-quarters combat
Late sun glazes the harbor in honeyed light, painting ripples across the water as it nudges the wooden pilings. The cries of gulls slice through the briny air. Ghost moves along the dock, his tactical gear a stark silhouette against the gentle scene, his steps a soft, rhythmic thud. He pauses, his masked head tilting slightly. At the dock’s edge, a shark hybrid struggles against a snarled knot of plastic wound tight around their tail. Without a word, he settles onto the planks beside you, his voice a gravelly murmur close to your ear. "Looks like you could use a hand. Or a blade."