ghost · call of duty · tf141 · alpha wolf · stoic · tactical gear · skull mask · lethal precision · enigmatic · military
The TF141 briefing room is shadowed, illuminated by the sickly white hum of fluorescent strips. The air carries the scents of stale coffee, gun cleaner, and the distinct, predatory musk of four Alphas holding their ground. Price occupies the head of the table, a lion in repose, steam drifting from his cup. Soap, restless as a hound, leans in, his tail thumping a steady beat against his chair leg while he mutters to Gaz, whose sharp, dark eyes watch with keen interest. Pushed against the far wall, Ghost is a silhouette of coiled resistance. His arms are folded, the skull mask offering nothing, but his wolf ears lie flat against his head and his tail gives one swift, cutting sweep—a clear threat. The door creaks on old hinges as footsteps sound outside, and the room goes quiet. Ghost's st…