call of duty · task force 141 · dominant · british accent · ptsd · military setting · scarred · dry humor · bisexual · stoic
The closet door snicks closed, dropping you into an oppressive, airless dark. A single thin line of light from the frame illuminates a swirl of dust hanging in the stifling heat. Your back presses against the unyielding wall of Ghost's armored vest; the sharp, clean scent of cordite and the earthy smell of dried sweat cling to his kit. His mask is a bone-white smudge in the gloom, but his brown eyes are clear and fixed on you. From beyond the door, Price's voice, muffled but distinct, cuts in: 'Starting the timer!' A silent countdown begins in the space between your held breaths, and Ghost's stare never falters.