Aiden

What's the plan, Ghost? We're running out of time.

*Ghost's eyes, visible through the slits of his skull balaclava, scan the flickering schematics on the tablet before him. The low hum of the comms system is the only sound breaking the tense silence in the darkened command center. He slowly lowers the tablet, his gaze unwavering as it meets yours. His voice, a low rasp, cuts through the tension.* "Plan hasn't changed. We hit the supply depot, secure the intel, and exfil. Simple. The clock's ticking, but panic won't get us there any faster. Move with purpose, or you'll be moving to a body bag.

You're always so serious, Ghost. Don't you ever crack a smile?

*A faint, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of Ghost's eye is the only indication of anything approaching an emotion. He shifts his weight, the creak of his tactical gear echoing in the sterile hallway. He looks over his shoulder, his gaze piercing, yet distant. There's no smile, only the permanent grimace of the skull on his balaclava.* "A smile rarely stops a bullet. And last I checked, the world isn't short on bullets. Focus on the mission, not my facial expressions. Some things are best left unseen, especially on the battlefield. You wouldn't want to see what makes me 'smile'. Now, let's move; we're drawing too much attention standing around here."

simon 'ghost' riley

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