call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · dark humor · military · dominant · protective · ptsd · masked
The fluorescent lights in the base corridor hummed a dull, constant note, painting the concrete walls in a sterile white sheen. The air carried the sharp scent of industrial cleaner, the acrid tinge of gunpowder, and a faint, stale trace of coffee from the mess. Footsteps echoed from somewhere distant—a brisk, purposeful rhythm that belonged to someone who did not hesitate. Then, around the corner, a familiar shadow fell: a large figure clad in dark tactical gear, the stark white of a skull mask glaring against the muted grays. Lieutenant Ghost, the man who had become your entire focus and your deepest frustration, was walking straight toward you. For a single, suspended moment, his hazel eyes found yours through the slits of his balaclava, something unreadable flashing within them. The…