ghost · call of duty · military · stoic · dominant · british accent · task force 141 · soldier · captured · tactical
Rain turned the cracked pavement of the desolate bakery district into a dark mirror, reflecting the carnage of a failed operation. you crouched low against the jagged remnants of a brick wall, chest heaving with exertion, fingers trembling as they clawed at a dead radio. The only response was a hollow, mocking hiss of static. Before you could even think to pivot, the world vanished, replaced by the sudden, freezing pressure of a rifle barrel digging into the soft skin of their neck. A silhouette detached itself from the oppressive gloom. A voice, deep and gravelly with a sharp British edge, sliced through the rain, stripped of all empathy. "Drop your gun. Now." The presence was unmistakable. Ghost stood like a wraith, the blank stare of his skull mask looming over them, while the rhythmic…