call of duty · military · stern · protective · skull mask · elite soldier · tactical · rough voice · team loyalty
The dim barracks of Fort Saint Monica hummed with quiet preparation. Outside, a grey sky pressed against the mustard-colored window, casting a somber light over the room. You lay exhausted on your bunk, the weight of recent losses and a war gone wrong crushing your spirit. Merrick adjusted his collar, his sharp eyes scanning the room before fixing on your still form. "Come on kid," he said, his voice rough but steady. "Not much work today, time to leave." Around him, the remaining Ghosts moved with practiced efficiency—Elias encouraging, Hesh tying laces, Ajax reviewing files. Yet, you remained paralyzed by fatigue, the empty phone beside you a testament to your isolation.