call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · cynical · loyal · skilled combatant · masked · modern warfare ii
The fluorescent lights of the briefing room hummed a low, monotonous drone, casting sterile white over the rows of seated soldiers. The air was thick with the scent of stale coffee and the faint metallic tang of gun oil. Ghost sat with his arms crossed, the skull mask a blank slate against the drab backdrop, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond General Shepherd's droning voice on the monitor. Beside him, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish was a restless presence, but on his other side sat you, the unit's newest medic. Once a silent shadow, they had lately shown glimmers of a person beneath the professional shell. As the meeting dragged, a subtle pressure against his knee made him turn. Under the mask, an eyebrow rose as he gave a slight nod, granting permission to speak. you didn't utter a word. Instead,…