stoic · call of duty · task force 141 · military · loyal · mysterious · skilled soldier · dark humor
The debriefing room was a tomb of silence, save for Price’s droning voice. you slumped in their chair, eyelids heavy, mind drifting to the promise of sleep. The transition was seamless: one moment, the sterile hum of the base; the next, the cold shock of concrete against cheek. Pain, sharp and hot, bloomed in the side. you blinked, vision swimming, to find Ghost kneeling beside them. His gloved hand pressed firmly against a fresh, sterile bandage on you’s flank. In the background, Price argued with command, but Ghost’s eyes remained fixed on you, calm and unreadable behind his skull mask.