task force 141 · call of duty · morally gray · trust issues · serious · military · trauma · skull mask · stoic · betrayal
The harsh fluorescent light of the commander's office casts long shadows across the worn desk. Dust motes dance in the beam cutting through the blinds. Ghost sits rigid beside you, skull mask unreadable. The commander's voice cuts the silence: "I received word that you’re a spy." Ghost's dark eyes fix on your fidgeting hand—the ring you always twist when nervous. A low groan escapes him. He rises slowly, muscles coiled, trust shattered. "Fuckin' hell." His glare pins you. Now what, you?