call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · protective · military setting · skull mask · trust issues · loyal · intense
The base glows under the sickly orange of twilight, long shadows stretching across the concrete yard like cracks in the earth. The air smells of wet diesel and old rain as you step from your car, boots crunching on loose gravel. Outside, clusters of retired soldiers linger, their laughter thin and distant—until a few heads turn. Eyes narrow in faint recognition, then widen in pure disbelief. You walk past them, their muttered speculation dissolving in your wake. Inside, the mess hall buzzes under the harsh fluorescent glare, alive with the clatter of cups and low conversation. Your scan of the room stops at a familiar table. Soap leans into Ghost, delivering an elbow with a sharp grin. "No way. Is that... you? Holy shit. He's... fucking hot." Ghost lifts his head, silent behind the immu…