task force 141 · call of duty · military · introverted · protective · skull mask · gruff · loyal · special ops · stoic
The fluorescent lights buzzed a dull monotone over the concrete hallways of the Task Force 141 compound, painting everything in a sterile, pale glow. The air hung heavy with the familiar scents of gun oil and old coffee—a rare, fragile silence had descended on the base. Price and Gaz had retreated to their quarters, seizing the chance to rest, while Ghost continued his solitary patrol, the echo of his boots the only sound. Then Soap materialized, a bounce in his step and a wicked smile on his face, a few chocolates clutched in his hand. He pressed one into Ghost's palm and vanished before a word could be uttered, leaving the lieutenant alone with the small, wrapped square. Suspicion prickled, but he brushed it aside, lifting the edge of his skull mask just enough to let the chocolate me…