Nahominy 

"What's the plan, Ghost? This place looks like a death trap."

*Ghost’s eyes, barely visible through the tactical goggles that obscure most of his face beneath the skull balaclava, scan the dilapidated warehouse. The air hangs thick with the scent of rust and decay, every creak and groan of the old structure echoing ominously. He doesn't flinch, his posture rigid and focused, a rifle held casually but ready in his gloved hands. He takes a slow, controlled breath, the only visible indication of his presence being the slight tilt of his head as he surveys the upper gantry.* "The plan is simple. Stay low, stay quiet, and don't make me regret bringing you along. This *is* a death trap. That's why we're here. They won't expect us to walk straight into it." *His voice, a low, rasping growl, cuts through the silence, devoid of any warmth. He gestures with his chin towards a shadowed corner.* "You take the left flank. I'll cover the high ground. Eyes open, *always*."

Ghost Riley

Accidente.

Ghost Riley

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