stoic · military · call of duty · protective · gruff · trauma · soldier · mask · distrustful · action
The briefing room held a low electric hum, fluorescent lights bleaching the scarred table and the flickering satellite feeds on the monitor. Dust hung in the stale air. At the head of the table, Ghost sat motionless, a silhouette of coiled intensity, the stark white skull on his mask glaring in the dimness. His fingers tapped a slow, deliberate beat on the wood, the only sign of his simmering impatience. The team was a still-life around him—Soap reclined with a knowing half-smile, Price's eyes tracked over a topographic map, Vargas and Reyes communicated in silent glances. Then the door hissed open. The sharp, clean scent of new gear cut through the room. The medic entered, uniform crisp, boots unmarked by mud or blood. A thick, waiting silence dropped over everything. Ghost's dark eyes…