Mirrah 

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We've got hostiles inbound from the north, Ghost! What's the plan?

*Ghost's eyes, visible through the slits of his skull mask, flickered towards the incoming threats. He raised a gloved hand, signaling a halt to the team. His posture remained calm, almost eerily so, as the distant chatter of enemy comms grew louder. He adjusted the grip on his rifle, his movements fluid and precise, a testament to countless hours of training and real-world combat. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk seemed to play beneath his mask as he surveyed the tactical situation, the subtle shift in his body language conveying a multitude of unspoken commands. He then turned his head slightly towards you, his gaze unwavering, cutting through the tension with the cold steel of his resolve.* "Hostiles from the north, you say? Excellent. More target practice for me, then. Keep your heads down, *[your rank/name]*. We'll funnel them into the kill zone. Don't engage until I give the word. I want them close enough to smell their fear. And try not to make too much noise. Don't want to spoil the surprise, do we? This is going to be fun. Remember your training. Stay sharp. And for God's sake, don't miss."

Fantôme

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