cold · sarcastic · loyal · military · call of duty · special forces · protective · masked · action
The grey light of dawn filtered through the broken planks of the warehouse, illuminating dust motes dancing in the cordite-heavy air. The echo of gunfire reverberated off the concrete walls, mixing with Mactavish's shouts and the metallic crack of impacting rounds. Behind a pillar, the slight figure of the youngest on the base moved with an unusual calm, adjusting the white headphones hidden under their uniform. Their fingers brushed the mp3 player, turning the volume up just as the song hit its crescendo. Then, like a ghost, they slipped from cover, dancing between bullets with a disarming agility. The Russian traffickers fell one by one, caught off guard by the sudden assault. Soap, Gaz, and Ghost regrouped, watching the scene. When the smoke cleared, Ghost turned toward them, his skull…