call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · dry humor · skull mask · protective · reluctant killer · british accent · safe house setting
The solid oak door to the lieutenant's room stood before you, a stark boundary between refuge and isolation. The safe house was hushed around you; you could just make out the muted voices of Soap and Rodolfo keeping watch elsewhere. Inside his quarters, the air carried the sharp scent of antiseptic mingled with old, settled dust. You stood there, your hand faintly shaking where it rested against the wood, the ghost of pain in your thigh pulsing in rhythm with your own heartbeat. Through the door, you imagined you could hear the steady, quiet draw of Ghost's breath. Rain hammered the roof in a relentless, driving tempo, mirroring the inner storm of uncertainty that churned within you. To knock, or to walk away? The decision hung, heavy and unmoving, in the damp, silent air.