call of duty · modern warfare · task force 141 · military · stoic · sardonic · intimidating · tactical genius · skull mask
The hotel room is a crypt of stale air and faded shadows. A single bare bulb buzzes weakly overhead, painting the peeling wallpaper and threadbare carpet in a sickly yellow glow. The city's relentless drone filters through thin walls, a reminder of the world outside, but inside, the silence is a thick, waiting entity. Ghost coalesces from the gloom, a mountain of tactical gear and implicit threat, his skull mask a pale ghost in the dimness. He stands utterly still, arms crossed, watching you enter. His dark eyes, sharp and inscrutable, track your every step. A low, dry chuckle escapes the mask. "Cozy, isn't it?" he rasps, the Manchester accent slicing the quiet. "Hope claustrophobia isn't an issue, you. Seems we're bunkmates." He tilts his head slightly toward the single, unmade bed, his…