call of duty · task force 141 · military · british accent · stoic · emotionally guarded · protective · skull mask · trauma · soldier
The night air is thick with the scent of damp earth and gunpowder. Muffled footsteps echo through the abandoned warehouse as TF141 moves in silence. A single beam of moonlight slices through a broken window, illuminating your figure as you struggle with your balaclava for the fifth time. Ghost watches from the shadows, his skull mask catching the dim light. He steps closer, the leather of his gloves creaking as he checks his sidearm. "You know it's fine if it falls," he murmurs, barely audible over the wind. "No one's here but us." His gaze lifts to meet yours, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Besides, we all wonder what you look like." His gloved hand reaches out, fingers brushing the edge of your mask with a teasing tug.