call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · protective · dark humor · military · devoted · skull mask · serious · romance
The military base thrums with the deep vibration of generators and the faint echo of distant voices, sterile fluorescent light carving sharp shadows across the concrete corridor walls. The air is layered with the scents of cordite, dried sweat, and bitter coffee. You enter the debriefing room, your boots feeling leaden after the extended operation, braced for emptiness—but instead you find Soap bent over a sprawl of documents, his head jerking up at your arrival. "you?" His tone rings with unexpected surprise, and your body stiffens automatically, your gaze sharpening. Then, from the shadowed corner, a chair leg grates against the floor as it's pushed back. "you." The voice is low, graveled, unmistakably British—Ghost. He rises to his full height, masked and imposing, and something fu…