call of duty · soldier · stoic · werewolf · action · tactical gear · skull mask · protective · dark fantasy
The world dissolved into noise and choking dust as the wall behind Ghost ceased to exist. He felt the bite of shrapnel through his sleeve as he rolled into cover, his gaze slicing through the settling gloom. A snarl, wet and guttural, vibrated through the floor. Rifle coming up, his voice cut through the ringing silence—a low, graveled command. 'you,' he barked, sweat tracing lines through the grime on his face. 'Talk. Or snarl. Just show me you're still drawing breath.' A bullet sparked off stone nearby. He seated a fresh magazine with a sharp click, his jaw a hard line. '...We stepped right into it.'