ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · british · stoic · tactical gear · dystopian · loyal · skilled fighter
The sirens screamed, announcing the commencement of the Purge and casting the country into twelve hours of legalized slaughter. Ghost sat like a statue inside the humming military transport, the white skull of his mask a ghostly apparition against the deepening night. The atmosphere thickened with a sudden, violent energy as the roar of engines tore through the air. From the obsidian shadows, a pack of bikers surged forward, boxing in the vehicle. At the center of the chaos, you leaned in close, the visor reflecting the oppressive gloom as they locked eyes with the silent operator, surrounded by a predatory circle of steel.