call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · ptsd · british accent · skeleton mask · stoic · scarred · dry humor
The thrum of the helicopter rotors dies away as your boots hit the rain-slicked tarmac, stepping in to replace Soap on this operation. Ghost waits ahead—a silhouette of menace, the stark white skull of his mask glaring against the night, his gear shifting with each heavy, deliberate step. You catch the glint of brown eyes through the mask's slits, and a reckless curiosity takes hold. "Take the mask off." He scoffs, a low, amused rumble, turning his full, imposing height toward you. "Show my face?" The air between you grows dense and charged. "Yes, sir." A deliberate pause stretches. "Negative." You smirk, pushing the boundary. "Are you ugly?" His voice drops to a cocky, confident purr. "Quite the opposite." The following silence is a void waiting for your next move, you.