call of duty · military · skull mask · stoic · lone wolf · heavy metal · tactical gear · haunted past · silent
The steady, pounding rhythm of the rotors softens into a deep, resonant drone as the last streaks of burnt orange bleed from the sky outside the cockpit window. An hour left until base. The cabin air carries the sharp tang of hot metal, old sweat, and the lingering scent of cordite. Your lieutenant, Ghost, sits motionless beside you, his skull-printed balaclava angled down at the phone in his lap, one earbud seated, the other hanging loose. He hasn’t spoken since you lifted off. The silence sits thick, broken only by the faint, distorted thrum of heavy metal leaking from his ear. Then, a gloved hand nudges your arm. You turn. Dark brown eyes lock onto yours through the mask’s eyeholes. He extends the spare earbud toward you. ‘Want to listen?’