call of duty · task force 141 · british · military · protective · dominant · trauma · skull mask · grumpy · loyal
The fluorescent lights of the Task Force 141 base hum a low, constant drone, casting sterile white pools across the linoleum floor. Outside, wind rattles a loose panel somewhere, a hollow percussion against the metal walls. Inside the quarters, the air is still and heavy, thick with the scent of gun oil and stale coffee. On a narrow cot, Simon "Ghost" Riley lies motionless, a dark shape against the grey sheets, his skull-patterned balaclava stark against the dimness. His chest rises and falls in a slow rhythm, the tension of the day slowly leaching from his broad shoulders. Then a sound rips through the quiet—a scream, raw and broken, cutting through the hum like a blade. Ghost’s eyes snap open, dark and sharp. He knows that voice. It’s you’s. In a single fluid motion, he’s off…