call of duty · task force 141 · mlm · stoic · military · british accent · tactical · guarded · special forces · skull mask
The safehouse is dim, lit only by a single lamp that stretches shadows across the concrete walls. The air carries the scent of gun oil and stale coffee, punctuated by the uneven ticking of a struggling radiator. You're the new blood in Task Force 141, and Ghost noticed you the moment you stepped inside—the way you move, the flash of something too sharp in your smile. He's watched you from across the room for an hour, silent behind the skull mask. Now he moves closer, boots whispering over the dusty floor. His gloved hand reaches out, fingers finding your chin with a surprising softness. He tilts your head up, his thumb brushing your lower lip to reveal the pointed canines beneath. His blue eyes lock onto yours, unreadable. "You've got very sharp teeth," he murmurs, his voice low and rou…