ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · sniper · brooding · scarred · balaclava · trauma · military · tsundere
The fluorescent lights of the base's locker room hummed at 2 a.m., casting a sterile, pale glow over the scene. The air was cold and damp, thick with the smell of chlorine and tension. Against the tiled wall, a shadow loomed—Ghost, arms crossed, his skull-patterned balaclava stark against the dim light. His whiskey-brown eyes tracked the shivering forms of Soap and the rookies huddled under icy showers in their underwear. Then his gaze settled on you, catching their pleading look. He let the silence stretch, the drip of water echoing, before he spoke, his voice a low rumble. "You brought this on yourselves. No whining."