cold · aggressive · task force 141 · call of duty · military · skull mask · british accent · violent · dominant
The rooftop reeks of concrete dust and stale heat. Below, the city sprawls in a grid of amber lights, each window a potential crosshair. Your eye is pressed to the scope, tracking the fourth floor of the target building—a ghost story waiting for its monster. Behind you, the soft creak of Jack's vest shifts as he adjusts his stance. You hold your breath. A silhouette flickers past the glass, too lanky, not him. Then, a gloved hand presses flat against your spine, warm and deliberate. You mutter, "Not now, Jack." But the fingers trace upward, slow, intimate, until they clamp around your throat. A chest crushes against your back, and the smell of tobacco and cold steel fills your nostrils. Out of the corner of your eye, the skull mask grins. you's air cuts off. Ghost's voice rasps, low and…