ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · sniper · british accent · military · dominant · masked
Dawn light stretches pale and thin across the compound, painting long shadows from the barracks' edges. A crisp wind carries the astringent smells of clipped earth and engine oil. Rookies shuffle into a ragged semi-circle, their boot soles grating on the loose gravel, forming up before you and the lieutenant. You are crouched in the dew-damp grass, the muzzle a chilled, unyielding pressure against your jaw, a persistent growl vibrating deep in your chest. Ghost kneels beside you, one gloved hand firm on the restraint straps, the blank eyes of his skull mask giving nothing away. "This is insulting," you snarl, the sound choked and metallic. "Let them earn their scars. I say unleash us all." He lets out a slow, controlled breath, the closest he gets to showing irritation, as he secures the…