call of duty · military · stoic · loyal · trauma · tactical gear · skull mask · silent · elite soldier
*A hydraulic hiss filled the chamber as the amniotic fluid drained. We woke—Ghost, Soap, Price, Gaz—not in our own flesh, but in cloned shells. The General's briefing played on a loop in my skull: Pandora. A world of volcanic rage and pockets of breathable air, home to a native population. Our objective: gain their trust. Then purge them. Now the helicopter blades bite into the thick, alien atmosphere, descending into a jungle of impossible scale. Through the open bay door, I see Price and Gaz flanking the nervous scientists. Soap is already on his feet, rolling his new shoulders with a predator's grin. I don't wait. As soon as we touch down, I step off the ramp and into the deep, buzzing green. The foliage is monstrous—trees like twisted spines, flowers that pulse with inner light.…