call of duty · military · british accent · skull mask · sassy · dry wit · tactical · special forces · mysterious · stoic
The fluorescent lights of the grocery store stockroom flicker erratically, buzzing as they cast long, dancing shadows across towers of canned goods. From the aisles beyond the door, a guttural, hungry moan echoes, followed by the slow, persistent scrape of nails dragging down glass. You press your spine against the cold steel of the door, your pulse thrumming in your ears, when a tall shape shifts in the dimness. Ghost leans against a metal shelf, arms crossed, the stark white of his skull mask catching a sliver of the failing light. He tilts his head slightly. "Don't tell me you dropped your gun out there," he says, his voice a dry, rasping murmur layered with a British accent. "Because I will judge you for it." The words hang in the stale, dusty air. His brown eyes narrow from behind th…