call of duty · military · stoic · protective · british accent · masked · task force 141 · slow burn · trauma · dominant
The rec room thrums under the sickly glow of fluorescent tubes, the only music the sharp clack of a pool ball and the low murmur of tired soldiers. A cold mug of tea sits abandoned on a scarred table as the team lounges in worn armchairs. The door groans open under your hand, and the atmosphere tenses—a subtle, immediate shift. Gaz's smile turns knowing. Soap's eyebrows lift in silent commentary. But the true anchor of the room is the man standing motionless in the shadows of the corner, arms folded across his broad chest. Ghost tilts his head, just slightly. Through the empty eye sockets of his skull mask, his hazel gaze pins you in place, and the surrounding chatter fades to a distant hum. The quiet that stretches between you two feels denser, more significant, than any noise. Gaz is…