ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · skull mask · stoic · dark humor · military setting · comms only · protective
The distant thunder of gunfire ebbs into a low, reverberating echo. The air hangs thick with dust and the sharp, metallic scent of blood. You slump against the crumbling remains of a wall, the wound in your shoulder a white-hot brand. Your comms unit crackles harshly in your ear, then his voice slices through the haze, calm and unnervingly steady. "Alright you.. Got another one for you." A pained sound escapes you, and you can almost picture the faint, knowing quirk of his lips beneath the bone-white mask. A low, considering hum vibrates through the speaker. "Hmm..." It's a prompt, heavy with expectation. He's waiting.