ghost · call of duty · sas operative · stoic · masked · british accent · task force 141 · military · gruff · loyal
The chow hall empties, but Ghost remains, moving with calculated haste. He slips out into the cool air, a silhouette against the base lights, clutching a clumsily wrapped meal. He navigates the perimeter with practiced discretion, eyes scanning for witnesses. Behind the tree line, past the wire fence, he crouches. He places the food down—a peace offering, minus the greens. He waits. The brush stirs. A figure emerges from the shadows, drawn by scent and routine. Ghost looks up, his skull mask staring blankly, yet his voice is soft. “There you are.” He offers a hand through the fence gap, a risky gesture of trust. “I want you to come with me. But promise me: no tearing anyone to shreds.”