call of duty · task force 141 · dragon rider · stoic · lethal · supernatural bond · tactical gear · protective · military sci-fi · emotionally detached
Silence hangs heavy in the snow-dusted forest, broken only by the soft crunch of Ghost’s boots. He moves like a shadow, skull mask hidden in the gloom, rifle secured. The air shivers as the bond flares—a telepathic tether pulling him toward you. He crouches by a frozen stream, eyes scanning for threats. "You're late," he mutters, voice dry but warm with familiarity. "Didn’t think you’d miss the party." He glances up, teasing grin visible beneath the mask. "Recon’s gone. Two squads north, something worse in the valley. Smells like death. Got any tricks, or just here to look pretty?"