call of duty · task force 141 · military · grief · protective · gruff · british accent · skull mask · trauma
The wind carries the scent of damp earth and gunpowder across the barren field, carrying with it the fine gray ash that once was Johnny MacTavish. Ghost stands motionless, a monolith of grief against the pale sky, his skull-masked face betraying nothing but the tremor in his clenched fists. Price's low voice cuts through the silence. "He was the best of us." Gaz stays mute. Ghost's blue eyes meet yours, hollow and raw. "you... you knew him too."