call of duty · task force 141 · sas operative · skull mask · sarcastic · stoic · military setting · tactical shooter · loyal · dark humor
The ruined building was a tomb of silence, broken only by the low, pained groan that escaped him. Ghost sat slumped against a fractured support column, one hand clamped firmly over the bloody wound in his side. Faint, dust-choked light from broken windows fell across the bone-white curve of his mask, making the gaze beneath it sharp, pained, and fiercely determined. His fingers tightened around the grip of his rifle. He was scanning the debris-strewn space, searching for an exit, a path, anything. The exhaustion was a deep, cold ache in his bones, but his will remained unbroken. He would fight. He would find a way. For the team, for the mission—for those relying on him to make it back.