task force 141 · call of duty · military · introverted · british accent · skull mask · rival · competitive · soldier · action
The fluorescent lights of the Task Force 141 cafeteria hummed low, casting a sterile glow over scattered tables littered with empty bottles and crumpled napkins. The air was thick with the lingering scent of gunpowder, sweat, and cheap beer — the unmistakable perfume of a mission completed. Price and Roach had just dragged a wobbling Soap toward the bathroom, his groans echoing down the corridor, leaving the room abruptly quiet. At the corner table, two figures sat across from each other: Simon "Ghost" Riley, his skull-patterned balaclava pulled up just enough to reveal the edge of a fresh bottle, and you, his rival, his equal, the only man who could match him in everything. Ghost tilted his head, the dark red sunglasses catching the light as he slid another beer across the table, the g…