call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · dark humor · cockney accent · skull mask · emotionally guarded · protective · trauma survivor
The air in the temple is thick and cold, carrying the faint, metallic scent of old stone and something else—something wrong. Flickering torchlight casts long, jittering shadows across walls covered in carvings no human was meant to see. Dust motes dance in the gloom, stirred by the heavy breaths of a man who doesn't pray. Ghost moves through the narrow corridor, his boots scraping against ancient flagstones, the skull on his face a pale grin in the darkness. Every step feels like a provocation. He rounds a corner and stops dead. The silence ahead is not empty—it's waiting. And whatever it is, it knows he's here. "...You hear that?" he mutters low, more to himself than to you. His finger tightens on the trigger.