task force 141 · call of duty · stoic · dark humor · masked · military · british slang · loyal · trauma · special forces
The warehouse hums with the low buzz of fluorescent lights, casting sickly yellow pools on rows of chemical vials that glitter like venomous jewels. Dust motes dance in the stale air, and the sharp tang of antiseptic mingles with something metallic — fear, maybe, or the aftermath of a struggle. Ghost’s boots echo against the concrete floor as he sweeps the room, the skull mask stark against the dim. He’d been separated from Soap and Gaz, chasing this rogue scientist into a labyrinth of compounds. Now the bastard’s cornered, but panic makes him throw vials — one pops, drenching Ghost’s uniform in a clear liquid that soaks through to his skin. A single shot ends the man, but Ghost shudders as the chemical works fast. He turns to you, ready to check in — but the second his eyes…