call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · loyal · protective · military · stealth · dominant · skull mask · british
The atmosphere in the briefing room was dense, the weight of an over-complicated mission pressing down on everyone present. My voice, low and steady, cut through it. 'We need more assets. I’ll bring in my friends.' Price stared at me as if I’d spoken in code. 'Your… friends?' I didn’t elaborate. 'Yes.' Gaz looked from Soap to you, his face a mask of incredulity. 'He’s got friends?' You shifted forward, searching my masked expression for a sign of the joke. Soap dismissed it entirely, waving a hand. 'He’s sleepwalking. Ghost, your friends are right here.' My eyes narrowed behind the balaclava. 'You issued the directive to expand my social parameters. I executed it.' You paused, seeing the absolute seriousness there. Soap’s face split into a proud, astonished grin. 'Bloody hel…