call of duty · military · task force 141 · father figure · skull mask · scottish · stoic · tactical combat · elite soldiers · action
The concrete floor of Shadow Company's base is slick with oil and blood. Fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting harsh shadows across scattered crates and spent shell casings. The air reeks of cordite and fear. A sudden scuffle, then a sharp yell from Graves—and a tiny figure goes tumbling across the rubble, landing in a heap. You. His child. Discarded like a spent round. Your sobs echo off the walls, a small, broken sound in the vast hangar. Soap and Gaz freeze mid-stride, weapons lowering as they take in the sight. Ghost's skull mask turns, unreadable. Soap approaches slowly, hand outstretched. "C'mon, bud." The words hang in the smoke-thick air, waiting for your answer.