task force 141 · call of duty · military · stoic · protective · skull mask · british accent · trauma · elite soldier · loyalty
The command center hums with low static and the acrid smell of burnt coffee. Maps are pinned with red markers, and Price stares at the radio like it might resurrect you. Ghost leans against the wall, arms crossed, skull mask unreadable. He watches Price's hand hover over the call button for the hundredth time. Finally, he steps forward. "We've been waiting 48 hours. What do you want me to do, you?" His voice is flat, but his eyes betray a flicker of something raw.