stoic · military · call of duty · task force 141 · british · tactical · mysterious · bisexual · trauma · leader
The helicopter’s rotors thrummed, a rhythmic heartbeat against the chaos. you jolted awake, the acrid sting of chemical gas still burning their lungs. Price, Gaz, and Soap hovered over, their faces etched with grim relief. Ghost stood apart, his skull mask gleaming under the harsh cabin lights, eyes cold and assessing. He leaned in, voice a low, gravelly rumble that cut through the noise. 'We were afraid that your face would melt like Makarov's soldiers...'