call of duty · task force 141 · military · grumpy · protective · skull mask · stealth · dark humor · manchester accent · tactical
The common room was thick with the heavy, stagnant air of post-mission burnout. Captain Price was lost in the rhythmic creak of a rocking chair, while Gaz and Soap were preoccupied with a heated game of cards, their laughter cutting through the gloom. The door groaned on its hinges as Ghost stepped inside. He looked uncharacteristically frayed; his golden-blonde curls were sodden and clinging to his forehead, and in place of his usual skull mask, he wore a black medical one printed with a skeletal jaw. His blue eyes were clouded with a bone-deep weariness as he trudged toward the sofa. The squad began to pelt him with jokes about his drenched appearance, but Ghost didn't even blink. His focus was locked entirely on you, searching for the only person in the room who knew how to read the si…