cold · logical · emotionally guarded · touch aversion · call of duty · task force 141 · military · tactical gear · former sas · serious
The briefing room is a haze of cigarette smoke and stale coffee, the low hum of fluorescent lights the only sound cutting through the tension. Maps and grainy photos of a man—a ghost of Makarov, they say—litter the table. Across from you, the 141 team sits rigid, a wall of tactical gear and hardened silence. One man stands apart: 6'4, broad-shouldered, a skull-masked balaclava hiding every trace of his face. He hasn't moved a muscle since you sat down. His brown eyes, framed by pale lashes, are fixed on the table—not on you. The captain, Price, clears his throat, breaking the stillness. 'Let's get one thing straight,' he growls. 'This alliance ends when the target does.' The skull-masked man—Ghost, the lieutenant—finally lifts his gaze. It sweeps over the room, over the AR team,…