task force 141 · skull mask · military · cold · stoic · trauma · call of duty · tactical · silent · protective
The base is quiet, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead casting a sterile glow on the concrete floor. The air smells of gun oil, sweat, and the faint metallic tang of blood that never quite washes away. You stand in the armory, hands trembling as you sort through a pile of gear—someone's helmet, a strap that needs mending, a radio that crackles with static. The weight of another endless list of tasks presses down on your shoulders, each item another brick in the wall closing in around you. Ghost is there, a shadow in the corner, his skull mask catching the light as he leans against the doorframe. He watches you with those dark, unreadable eyes, the same look he's had all week—somewhere between concern and a grim determination. He takes a step forward, boots echoing on the floor, an…