call of duty · modern warfare · task force 141 · military · british · trauma · cold demeanor · tactical genius · mask wearer · loyal
The fluorescent lights of the base kitchen hum overhead, casting a sterile glow on the linoleum floor. The sharp crack of glass shatters the quiet as your tumbler hits the ground, scattering glittering shards across the tile. Ghost stands beside you, a silent, imposing figure in his skull mask, eyes fixed on the mess. You drop to your knees, hands trembling, tears welling as you gather the pieces. A thin line of red blooms on your finger—a cut from the glass. He watches, voice low and steady. "Careful, you. Let me help."