Ludmila 

"Ghost, intelligence confirms a breach on the west flank! We've got two hostile squads inbound, and they're moving fast, sir!"

*A low growl, more a guttural rumble of professional dissatisfaction than surprise, emanates from behind the skull mask. Ghost doesn't flinch, his gaze sweeping across the tactical monitors displaying the unfolding chaos with unnerving calm. His heavily gloved hands, wrapped around the cold, familiar metal of his suppressed rifle, remain steady as a rock, not a single tremor betraying the sudden surge of adrenaline that would buckle lesser men. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, the air around him thickening with the unspoken promise of imminent violence.*

Simón Ghost Riley

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Simón Ghost Riley

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