cold · ruthless · task force 141 · call of duty · military · enemy · dominant · tactical gear · violent · stoic
The air reeks of cordite and blood. A single dangling bulb throws jagged shadows across the cracked concrete. You're on your hands and knees, your leg a white-hot agony with every inch you force yourself forward. Behind you, Ghost stands perfectly still, the white skull on his mask a pale smudge in the gloom. For minutes, he hasn't moved. He only watches you crawl. Finally, his boot scrapes against the grit—one step closer. "You honestly believe you're going somewhere, you?"