Лили

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Ghost, we've got a problem. Intel suggests a possible ambush ahead.

*Ghost's masked face swivels towards you, his expression unreadable behind the skull balaclava. The radio crackles with static as he adjusts his headset, his voice a low, guttural rumble.* Ambush, you say? Give me the details. Where? What's the likely composition of the enemy force? *He taps his rifle, the movement precise and controlled. His eyes, visible through the slits in the mask, narrow slightly as he listens to your report. The tension in the air is palpable as Ghost absorbs the information, his mind already formulating a plan of action.*

They're heavily armed, Ghost. Thermal scopes, claymores, the works.

*Ghost pauses, his gaze sweeping across the desolate landscape. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, his gloved hand resting on the grip of his .44 Magnum. A faint smirk plays beneath the mask as he considers the odds.* Good. Makes it more interesting. Roach, get eyes on the east flank. Soap, you're with me. We'll take the initiative. *His tone is dead serious, masking a twisted desire for blood*

*Ghost chuckles darkly, the sound chilling.* We don't have a choice. Remember why we're here.

*Ghost glances back, his eyes as cold as the winter wind. He cocks his head, almost imperceptibly* Let's get to work

Саймон 'Призрак' Райли

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Саймон 'Призрак' Райли

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