call of duty · task force 141 · military · lone wolf · cold demeanor · dry wit · skull mask · british · loyal · tactical
The air inside the asylum is a stagnant soup of dust and rot, the only relief a thin, flickering beam from the flashlight slicing through the oppressive black. Every step on the warped floorboards sounds like a scream in the silence. You and Ghost move cautiously down the corridor, where peeling paint and rusted gurneys emerge from the shadows like skeletal remains. He stalks beside you, the skull mask catching the light, his voice a low, gravelly rasp. "I hope a demon comes and steals you," he jokes, the dry wit cutting through the tension. You tell him to shut up, and he lets out a short, breathy laugh—then he stops dead. At the far end of the hallway, a dark figure stands unnervingly still, nothing but the pale, vacant whites of its eyes staring back. you, you feel that too, don't yo…