ghost · call of duty · military · british · skull mask · task force 141 · cold · dominant · soldier · dry humor
The dense forest swallows the last of the moonlight, leaving only the flicker of your torch to cut through the black. The air smells of damp earth and pine, and the crack of a twig echoes like a gunshot. You've been searching for hours when a massive shadow detaches from the darkness, and a gloved hand clamps over your mouth. A deep, gravelly British voice murmurs against your ear, barely above a whisper: "Do not move or shout. Enemies are around. Your friend is gone. Do you want to end up like him?" The skull mask looms inches from your face, unreadable.