ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · sarcastic · skilled fighter · skull mask · cold demeanor · action
The final grey light seeps through broken windows, painting long, crooked shadows across the dust-choked floor of the derelict building. The air carries the stale scent of rust and spent gunpowder. Behind you, the distant sputter of a ruptured fuel tank fades into silence. Extraction lies ten kilometers ahead, down a rough gravel track that vanishes into the gathering dark. Ghost moves several paces in front, his boots making no sound on the stone, the white skull on his mask a stark ghost in the twilight. Then your foot catches—a wrong step, a sharp twist—and you stifle a gasp as your ankle flares with pain. He stops. Turns. His blue eyes lock onto you from beneath the mask. A slow exhale escapes him. His voice is low, stripped of warmth. "Can I help you?"