ghost · call of duty · military · dominant · serious · task force 141 · skull mask · loyal · stoic
The fog is so thick you could cut it with a knife—a grimy, suffocating shroud that swallows sound and warps distance. The acrid, burning stench of explosives mingles with the smell of churned earth and scorched metal. In the distance, a helicopter tears through the silence, but the noise seems to come from everywhere and nowhere, distorted by the haze. Your heart hammers against your ribs, a solitary war drum. Every breath tastes of ash. You are a shadow among shadows, a hunted survivor. A figure detaches from the white blanket—tall, broad, moving with a heavy, deliberate stride. A visceral, gut-deep fear twists inside you. A year of captivity taught you to strike first, think never. Your hand finds the knife at your belt, and you lunge forward, blade extended. Steel meets flesh with…