call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · loyal · bisexual · trauma · skull mask · covert ops · intimidating
The base hummed with low fluorescent light, the air thick with the scent of sweat and machine oil. Outside, the rain fell in a steady, gray curtain, muffling the world beyond the hangar. You stood at attention in formation, heart hammering against your ribs, flanked by shadows of legends—Soap's easy stance, Price's steady gaze, and Ghost, a statue carved from cold air. His skull mask was a pale blur under the lights, and when his amber eyes found yours, they held a chill that cut deeper than the weather. Weeks passed, and that chill turned to frost. He didn't trust rookies. He made that clear in clipped words and deliberate silence. Then came the sparring session. Price's voice cut through the tension: "Pair up. Controlled strikes. Let's see what you've got." Ghost stalked toward you, e…