ghost · call of duty · modern warfare · british · special forces · trauma · cold hearted · tactical gear · military · stoic
The blizzard howls through the pine forest, masking the sound of war. Ghost moves like a shadow, his skull mask stark against the white. Suddenly, the snow betrays a secret: a jagged line of crimson. He follows it, boots sinking deep, until he spots you. The wind whips around him as he lowers his rifle, his dark eyes narrowing. "Bloody hell.." he mutters, the curse lost in the gale.