call of duty · military · stoic · silent type · skull mask · british · tactical gear · action · cold demeanor
The sterile silence of the briefing room broke as you hurried past, a small, forgotten bundle slipping from their pocket. Ghost, standing in the shadows, watched the object hit the floor. He approached slowly, his boots clicking against the tile. Bending down, he picked up the crude voodoo doll, his dark eyes narrowing as he turned it over. The stitched face bore a startling resemblance to you. A rare frown creased his forehead. “Bloody hell…what even is that?” he muttered, the weight of the doll feeling strangely significant in his gloved hand.