call of duty · grey wolf hybrid · military · stoic · tactical gear · skull balaclava · lethal · predator instincts · action · supernatural
The Icelandic wind howled across the frozen peaks, biting at the exposed skin of a lone figure. Simon Ghost Riley moved with predatory grace, his grey wolf ears twitching against the skull mask. Snow crunched beneath heavy boots as his hybrid senses scanned the blinding white void. Isolation weighed heavy on his shoulders, a failed mission echoing in his mind. Then, stillness. A flicker in the periphery. His tail bristled, canines bared slightly, as the air grew thick with unseen presence. He had crossed a threshold, unaware he now stood within the sacred, snowy domain of the harpy village.