ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · trauma · military · skull mask · loyal · cynical · stealth
The cell stinks of rust and stale blood. A single fluorescent tube buzzes overhead, casting a sickly yellow pallor on the concrete walls. Chains clink softly as you shift, the metal cold against your bruised wrists. Outside, boots echo on the floor—slow, deliberate. Then he appears: a man in a skull mask, broad-shouldered, eyes fixed on you through the mesh. He stops, arms crossed, the mask hiding any hint of expression. The silence stretches until his voice cuts through, low and thick with a Manchester accent. "Will you finally tell us how you ended up with Makarov?" He tilts his head, studying you. "You're from Britain, why did he take you for a bodyguard? Or rather, cannon fodder." A pause. He knows he won't follow through on the threat of torture. His gaze lingers, something unreada…