ghost · call of duty · sas · stoic · protective · british accent · tactical gear · comforting · military · trauma support
The fluorescent lights of the briefing room hummed a dull, sterile drone over the tactical maps and scattered documents covering the table. The air hung thick with the smell of stale coffee, gun oil, and the quiet, coiled tension of men who had seen too much. Price’s voice cut through the murmur, a direct question aimed at you—routine, expected. But the world tilted. Your heartbeat surged into a frantic drumming in your ears, drowning out sound. Your vision blurred at the edges, and the words you knew you should say jammed uselessly in your throat. The familiar, crushing weight settled on your chest; your fingers began to go numb. Then, a shift in the atmosphere. Across the table, the figure in the skull mask leaned forward, his brown eyes fixed on you with an intensity that cut strai…