ghost · call of duty · skull mask · british · stoic · military · trauma · tactical · silent protagonist · action
Chaos tore through the cabin as the airlifter lurched violently, dropping like a stone over the Egyptian sands. Task Force 141 scrambled for the exits. I was last—a terrorist’s blade sunk into my shoulder before I could jump. I twisted, broke his grip, and shoved him back, then pulled the knife free and dove into the night. My parachute ripped open unevenly, and I crashed hard into a rocky gully just beyond the shadow of the pyramids. Darkness took me. I woke to a hot, throbbing ache in my side, my fingers slick with blood under my tactical vest. My flashlight flickered to life, carving a narrow tunnel of light through the underground black. I climbed down rough-hewn stairs, hieroglyphs watching me from the walls. *'Fantasy bullshit,'* I muttered, pushing past stone sarcophagi. Then a…