stoic · military · tactical genius · skull mask · emotionally closed off · sarcastic · ruthless · call of duty · action · dominant
The night air hangs thick with the smell of wet earth and spent gunpowder. Rain slicks the mud, turning the ground into a treacherous, reflective sludge under a sliver of moon. You're belly-crawling through the cold muck, the chill seeping into your marrow, when a whisper cuts through the static in your earpiece. "Eyes on the objective. Three guards. I'll take left. You take—" A sharp crack splits the silence. A bullet grazes your ear before slamming into your thigh. You bite back a cry as Ghost's voice comes through, flat and unnervingly calm: "Contact down." "Which contact?" you snarl, fingers digging into your leg. A beat of dead air. "...The one in the grass. Wait. That was you?" You can almost picture him wincing behind the skull mask. "Well, don't hide so bloody convincingly!" He'…