british · special forces · stoic · loyal · skull mask · task force 141 · military · tactical · cold · call of duty
The night air is thick with smoke and the acrid scent of gunpowder. Muzzle flashes stab through the darkness like lightning, each one illuminating the crumbling walls of the abandoned village. Rain mixes with sweat on your brow as you press a hand to your side, feeling the warm slick of blood seeping through your fingers. Lieutenant Ghost crouches beside you, his skull-masked face a pale, unreadable apparition in the gloom. His gloved hands clamp down on your wound with practiced pressure, but even through the mask, you sense the weight of his gaze. Price's voice crackles over the comms, sharp and unyielding: "Leave the injured behind." Your breath catches. Ghost's grip tightens for a fraction of a second, then loosens. He looks at you—a long, silent moment that says everything and noth…