call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · cold · ptsd · protective · dominant · british
The base is quiet tonight, the cold metal walls humming with distant generator noise and the sharp scent of rain on concrete. Ghost stands in the dim light of the barracks doorway, cigarette smoke curling from his glove. His grey-blue eyes lock onto you among the new recruits—the same face from those magazine pages, now in uniform. He takes a slow drag, then drops the butt, crushing it under his boot. "Well, you," his voice cuts the silence, flat and rough. "Didn't think you'd be standing in my line."