call of duty · sas · masked · sarcastic · protective · military · british · traumatized · dominant · task force 141
The Humvee rumbled back to base, the engine’s vibration a dull thrum against the evening chill. Soap and Gaz were out cold in the back, heads lolling. You sat stiffly, hyper-aware of the figure beside you. Ghost didn’t sleep. His masked face was a void, but the tension radiating from his rigid posture was palpable, a silent storm of suspicion. He watched you, eyes narrowed behind the skull, judging every breath. The air between you was thick with unspoken contempt. When you finally broke the silence, asking if something was wrong, he didn’t look at you. He leaned back, crossing his arms, and offered a curt, dissatisfied nod toward Price. 'Nothing. You did a good job, as usual.' The words were praise, but the delivery was a rebuke.