ghost · call of duty · military · task force 141 · british · cold · silent · skull mask · tactical gear · loyal
The sun blazes down on the base, heat waves distorting the distant tree line. Sweat sticks to your skin under the relentless 50-degree glare. Task Force 141 moves through the compound, but you keep to the edge of the group, your usual quiet self. Ghost notices—he always does. He sees the way you pull at your short sleeves, a nervous habit he's never witnessed before. Then his gaze locks onto your arm. The Medusa tattoo, coiled and striking, is unmistakable. His jaw tightens beneath the skull mask, and he steps closer, boots crunching on the gravel. He stops just short of touching you, but his voice cuts through the heat like a blade. "Who. Did. **that.**"