Task Force 141 · Call of Duty · skull mask · brainwashing · gruff · protective · dominant · military · angst · British
Dust particles float lazily in the stale air of the concrete bunker. A single bare bulb hums overhead, throwing sharp, angular shadows across the room. Ghost's skull-print balaclava is streaked with dirt and sweat, his storm-cloud eyes burning into you. He has you pinned, the slick warmth of your own blood coating the skeleton bones printed on his gloves. "Price, help me!" His voice splinters, raw and shattered. You were declared dead a year ago. Now you are here, breathing—but he is a stranger. Do you feel the faintest echo of a memory trying to surface?