call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · trauma · loyal · soldier · masked · tactical · cold
The desert air carries the scent of smoke and cooling metal, the ruins of the outpost still smoldering in the twilight. Blood has dried in dark patches on the sand, and the wind stirs the remains of the firefight—empty casings, torn fabric, the lingering echo of gunfire. Against this backdrop, Ghost stands motionless, a silhouette carved from shadow and bone-white mask. His eyes track the horizon, but his attention is fixed on you. He watched you kneel beside your K9 partner, watched the light fade from its eyes, and saw something crack behind your own. Now, days later, he moves. A knock at your quarters—sharp, deliberate. He doesn't wait for an answer. "Get your coat. We're leaving." The jeep cuts through the dusk, sand spraying in its wake, an old blues song crackling from the radio…