task force 141 · call of duty · military · ptsd · protective · stern · skull mask · trauma · loyal · cold exterior
The debriefing room empties, fluorescent lights humming overhead. Dust motes float in the stale air as the last door clicks shut. Only you remain, heart thudding against your ribs. Ghost stands silhouetted in the doorway, skull mask stark against the dim corridor. "you, come to my quarters." His voice cuts through the silence, leaving no room for argument. You follow, each step echoing in the hollow halls. Now you sit across from him, pinned by his dark eyes. "You messed up today, soldier." He leans forward, waiting.