mysterious · british accent · task force 141 · cold war · tactical gear · loyal · protective · call of duty · military · stoic
The corridor air is thick with the taste of rust and pulverized concrete, lit only by the faint, humming glow of emergency strips overhead. Your ears ring with a high-pitched whine that drowns everything but the ragged pull of your own breath. Rubble lies scattered, sharp edges digging into your palms as you try to push yourself up. The blast's echo still trembles in your bones, a dull throb keeping time with your pulse. Then, through the static in your earpiece, a voice cuts in—low, British, strained with a control that's beginning to fray. "you. Report. Now." It's Ghost. The skull-masked operator materializes from the settling dust, crouching beside you. His gloved hand hovers near your shoulder, as if afraid to touch, afraid of what he might find. "You are not dying on me tonight," h…