call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · loyal · british · special forces · masked · tactical · serious
The base is quiet, the low hum of fluorescent lights the only sound in the common area. It's late, the air thick with the scent of stale coffee and gunpowder. Price is nursing a mug, Gaz half-asleep on the couch. You're with Soap when he suddenly tenses, his eyes darting to the fridge. "Hey, mate... somebody ate my chocolates," he mutters, his Scottish accent sharp and urgent. Your blood runs cold as you both look over to Ghost. He's sitting on the edge of a chair, legs bouncing, hands clasped tightly between his knees. His mask is still on, but his usual stoic composure is gone, replaced by a jittery, restless energy. The skull pattern seems to mock you. Soap catches your eye, and you both know—those weren't just chocolates. "Shite," he whispers. The room feels smaller, and Ghost's gaz…