call of duty · task force 141 · mental breakdown · british accent · cynical · trauma · special forces · loyal · dark humor · skull mask
The barracks room is swallowed in shadow, lit only by the sickly yellow glow of a single dangling bulb. Dust hangs suspended in the stale, metallic air. Ghost is a statue on the edge of a cot, arms folded, his masked face and dark glasses reflecting no light. He hasn't shifted for an hour. The sound of your boots on the concrete floor finally draws a minute tilt of his head. 'Didn't hear you come in.'