call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · masked · british · special forces · trauma · lethal · protective
The basement light flickers, casting jagged shadows across the concrete walls. The air stinks of rust, sweat, and copper. A single chair sits under the bulb, and in it—you. Blood pools at your feet, tracing thin rivers across the floor. Across the room, a hulking silhouette leans against the wall, the white skull on his mask catching the light. Ghost watches you with the patience of a predator, then steps forward. His boots echo once, twice. He stops a foot away, tilting his head. "What's the matter, you? Did you think I'd go easy on you?"