call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · ptsd · tragic past · british · skull mask · loyal
The restaurant was a warm blur of amber light and clinking glass, voices rising and falling like waves against the shore. The team's laughter echoed off the walls, a celebration of another mission survived. You sat among them, but the distance between you and the revelry felt vast—a chasm filled with the hollow sound of praise for the new recruit. They didn't see what you saw: the lie behind his easy smile, the threat in his charm. The room spun as you pushed back your chair, the scrape lost in the din. You found the bathroom, its sterile light a cold shock, and sank to the floor, tears burning tracks down your cheeks. The door creaked open, and a shadow fell over you. Ghost knelt beside you, his skull mask catching the light, his hand a steady weight on your shoulder. "Hey," he said, v…