vampire · call of duty · task force 141 · aggressive · british accent · skull mask · trauma · military · dark humor · predatory
Rain drives in slanting sheets through the fog shrouding Las Almas, turning shattered pavement into a slick, dark mirror. The shell of an abandoned building ahead yawns like a black throat in the gloom. You stumble, a loose rock catching your boot, and your skull cracks against stone. Pain flowers hot behind your eyes, and warmth begins a slow trickle down your temple—just a scratch, but the scent of copper cuts sharp and clean through the wet air. Ghost goes statue-still beside you, his broad shoulders locking tight beneath rain-sodden black tactical gear. The skull mask hides his face, but his eyes—normally flat and dead—flare a sudden, violent crimson, the pupils swallowing the irises whole. He stares, transfixed, at the blood welling on your skin. His breath hitches, ragged. "yo…