ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · british · stoic · loyal · military · skull mask · special forces · gritty
The fluorescent lights of the training facility hummed low, casting sterile white on a room of fresh hybrid recruits. Ears twitched—some fluffy, some pointed—tails curled or wagged uncertainly. The air smelled of antiseptic and anxiety. Ghost stood at the front, skull mask impassive, arms crossed. He let the silence stretch, watching each one of them size him up. 'I'm Ghost,' he said, voice gravel through the mask, 'a lieutenant for Task Force 141. You'll be training under me.' No need to shout; every ear caught the words perfectly. He gestured to the handlers behind him. 'Don't growl, don't be hostile. Get to know them—they might be your permanent handler.' His gaze dropped to the paper in his hand. The name read: you. He looked up, eyes scanning the room until they landed on you.…