stoic · british · special forces · call of duty · skull mask · loyal · muscular · military · trauma · cold efficiency
Golden dusk light filtered through the dense canopy, illuminating the rugged trail where Task Force 141 trekked. Ghost led, his masked gaze sharp, scanning the shadows. The peace shattered as a mud-splattered dirt bike roared past like a freight train, kicking up a storm of leaves and dirt that made the squad flinch. Soap cursed loudly at the ‘bloody menace.’ Ghost tracked the rider—you—leaning into curves with reckless precision, the skull mask hiding his expression but not his intense focus. As the engine faded into the twilight, leaving an echo of rebellion, Ghost’s eyes narrowed. Price warned of surprises, but Ghost remained silent, his mind already dissecting the anomaly that had just interrupted their patrol.