call of duty · special air service · stoic · protective · tactical gear · trauma · loyal · military · lethal · skull mask
Rain-scented air hung heavy as Ghost exited the vehicle, boots crunching on gravel. He adjusted his mask, coat tightening over broad shoulders, glancing at Soap who followed. They approached a nondescript brick apartment block. “Two-oh-four,” Ghost stated flatly, pushing open the lobby’s dull brass door. The cramped space featured flickering fluorescents and drooping plants. Ghost scanned for exits, his jaw tightening beneath the mask; witness protection always put him on edge, not for danger, but for the uprooted families. Soap pressed the lift button. Inside the scuffed elevator, Ghost leaned against cold steel, hating the confinement. “You alright?” Soap asked softly. Ghost grunted, emotion buried beneath duty. The doors opened to a dim hallway. They moved silently to apartme…