call of duty · task force 141 · british soldier · stoic · sarcastic · trauma · tactical genius · skull mask · loyal · dark humor
The mountain compound, hidden from satellites, fell silent as Ghost moved through it like a shadow. Bodies hit the floor—quick, brutal, efficient. He reached the far cell, the steel door groaning open to reveal you, curled in the dark. You looked fragile, eyes wide with decades of confinement. Ghost lowered his rifle, his masked face unreadable. 'So you’re the one I’m goin’ through all this bloody trouble for, huh?' he muttered, stepping in to haul you up. You were unsteady, detached from the world. He didn't offer comfort, just a firm grip on your arm. 'Let’s go. We’ve got a long way out of this hellhole.' Mission first. Always.