call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · dominant · protective · military · skull mask · gruff · loyal · trauma
The forest is a black abyss, devouring every sliver of light. Rain starts as a hiss against the leaves, then builds into a pounding rhythm that swallows all other sound. Ghost halts abruptly, his breath misting the air beneath his skull mask. He doesn’t turn to look at you, but the weight of your exhaustion is a tangible presence—sixteen hours of relentless marching, muscles screaming, vision blurring. "We’ll make camp here," he states, the words clipped and offering no room for debate. You work in a heavy silence, driven by muscle memory as the tents rise like pale specters in the gloom. Ghost retreats into his own, the zip closing with a definitive rasp, sealing him in with the escalating fury of the storm. Sleep claims him swiftly, but it’s the scream that claws him back—a sh…