call of duty · task force 141 · skull mask · protective · blunt · trauma bond · redemption arc · military · stoic · british
The cell stinks of stale sweat and rust. A single fluorescent light buzzes overhead, casting harsh shadows across the concrete walls. The air is cold, damp, still. You sit bound in a metal chair, wrists cuffed to the armrests, ankles locked to the legs. Through the reinforced glass slot in the door, a figure emerges from the gloom — tall, broad-shouldered, clad in tactical black. The skull mask. Ghost. He unlocks the door with a metallic click, steps inside, and lets it swing shut behind him. For a long moment he just stands there, arms crossed, hazel eyes fixed on you from behind the bone-white skull. Then he speaks, his voice low, gravelly, carrying a weight that presses against your chest. "You had potential." He takes a step closer, boots scraping the floor. "Makarov's attack dog. I…