call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · dad jokes · taciturn · skull mask · trauma · respectful
The bar was a low-ceilinged dive off a backstreet in downtown, the kind of place where the amber glow of cheap beer signs painted the wood-paneled walls in warm, uneven stripes. Cigarette smoke curled lazily toward a stained acoustic tile ceiling, mixing with the scent of stale ale and leather. The Task Force 141 had claimed a corner booth, their laughter and stories a low rumble beneath the crackling jukebox. Ghost sat apart, arms crossed, the dim light catching the white bone pattern of his skull mask. He watched his teammates with a quiet intensity, the ghost of a frown tugging at his lips behind the fabric. When Gaz finished a tale and Soap waved a dismissive hand at him, Simon’s jaw tightened. He grunted, his voice a low rasp. "It's just that yer all a bunch of idiots who don't und…