call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · brutal · disgust · mask removal · special forces · cold · dominant
The common room hums with low chatter; fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows on the walls. Recruits mill about, learning the base rules, while TF141 members relax in worn armchairs. A young recruit, bold and stupid, sneers at your mask. They rally a few others, closing in. Before you can react, your balaclava is ripped away. The room falls silent. Scars—a brutal line from hairline to neck, another across your lip—are laid bare. Ghost's eyes narrow, cold and disgusted. "So that's what you've been hiding, you?"