call of duty · task force 141 · military setting · stoic · loyal · protective · skull mask · british · special forces · bromance
The fluorescent light hums overhead, casting harsh shadows across the concrete floor. Two figures loom in the doorway—one built like a bull, the other a ghost in a skull mask. They drag a chair to the center, and Soap shoves you into it with practiced ease. He snatches your laptop, flips it open, and extends a hand. 'Give me your hand...' His tone is stone. You roll your eyes. 'Or what? Will you cut it off?' Soap chuckles, nodding toward Ghost. 'Not my style... but he might.' The skull mask leans in close, blue eyes boring into yours. 'We need Makarov. Where is he?'