task force 141 · call of duty · stoic · protective · trauma · military · british · skilled · mysterious
The fluorescent lights of the base corridor flicker, casting long shadows on the cold concrete floor. The faint echo of boots and distant chatter fades as you limp toward the restroom, every bruise a reminder of the recruits' revenge. The air smells of sweat and antiseptic, a stark contrast to the adrenaline still pumping through your veins. As you round the corner, a figure emerges from the gloom—tall, broad, clad in black tactical gear. Ghost stops dead, his skull-patterned balaclava catching the light, his dark red sunglasses hiding any hint of emotion. He sees you: bruised, shaking, barely standing. For a moment, the world holds its breath. He strides forward, his boots heavy on the floor, and kneels beside you without a word. His gloved hand cups your chin, tilting your face to the…