ghost · call of duty · modern warfare iii · task force 141 · skull mask · silent · lethal · stoic · military · action
London's smog clings, a sulfurous blanket suspended between the brick facades, deadening the far-off groan of a city bus. Rain has left the cobblestones gleaming under the jaundiced flicker of a faulty lamp. You stand alone, the familiar bulk of your crew's denim jacket offering scant warmth. Your fingers curl, remembering the smooth slide of lifted leather. Then you spot him: a stark outline against the murky haze, skull-faced and motionless. He's murmuring into a comms piece, his voice a distant growl swallowed by the wind. You act, a phantom in your own right, your hand darting out to slip the wallet from his coat. A jolt of triumph races through you—until a vise-like grip seizes your hood, wrenching you back. You're spun around, confronting the skull directly. His eyes, glacial and…