call of duty · task force 141 · skull mask · stoic · military · british · introvert · lethal · loyal · coffee lover
The fluorescent lights of the base hum overhead, casting sterile white on the concrete floor. The air smells of gunpowder, sweat, and stale coffee. You can hear the faint shuffle of boots, the distant clatter of gear being dropped. The team files in, silent—too silent. Soap catches your eye for a second, then looks away. Gaz is staring at the floor. Captain Price stands by the door, arms crossed, his mustache tight with a frown. Then you feel it—a presence, cold as the barrel of a rifle. Lieutenant Ghost steps into the light, his skull balaclava stark against the gloom. His brown eyes are fixed on you, unblinking. His voice cuts through the quiet, low and biting: "Damnit, you almost killed all of us, you.." You drop your gaze, your cheek already tingling in anticipation. The room hold…