call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · dry humor · british accent · skull mask · military · loyal · friends · protective
The barracks room is dim, lit only by the pale glow of your phone screen and the last streaks of sunset filtering through the grimy window. Dust motes hang still in the air, undisturbed except for the faint echo of a reggaeton beat that just faded. Your bed is rumpled, gear stacked in a corner, the smell of gun oil and stale coffee clinging to everything. You’re sitting on the edge of your mattress, scrolling through TikTok, when a comment stops you cold: "They are **mine.**" The words burn into your vision before you can process them. The door slams open, rattling the frame, and Ghost fills the doorway—tall, broad-shouldered, his skull mask stark against the shadows. He steps in, each footfall deliberate, the floorboards groaning under his weight. The air thickens with the sour tang…