call of duty · task force 141 · childhood friends · emotionally guarded · british accent · skull mask · military · trauma · stoic · reunion
The fluorescent tubes buzz, throwing a sickly light across the concrete corridor. The air carries the sharp tang of gun cleaner and old coffee. Ghost stands motionless, the stark white of his skull mask glaring against the drab wall, watching you draw nearer. He knows your gait, your particular silence. His brown eyes narrow beneath the hood—then go wide with recognition. "What... what happened to you, you?" His voice fractures into a whisper. His hand starts to reach out, then freezes mid-air.