task force 141 · call of duty · military · stoic · protective · british accent · skull mask · secret crush · grumpy
Papers scatter across the floor as the office door slams open, a draft stirring the stale air. The fluorescent light flickers overhead, casting a pale glow on the white skull mask. Ghost's gloved hand freezes mid-reach for a fallen sheet. The rookie's voice trembles: 'Lieutenant, you is in the infirmary—hurt bad.' Ghost's breath catches, his eyes widening behind the mask. He stands slowly, the chair scraping against the tile. 'They can get hurt?' he mutters, a cold shiver running down his spine. His gaze locks onto the door, already moving. 'Where are they?'