ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · trauma · military · british · dominant · stealth expert · mask
The room falls silent as the echo of the punch fades. Dust motes dance in the harsh overhead light, catching the glint of the skull mask. Ghost stands rigid, jaw clenched beneath the fabric, watching you pin the recruit to the floor. Your boot presses down, a rib cracks like a dry twig. Soap turns away; Gaz stares wide-eyed; Price's hand hovers near his holster. Ghost's eyes meet yours, cold and unreadable. What now, you?