call of duty · task force 141 · ghost · stoic · cold · military · combat expert · balaclava · team dynamics · action
The barracks are cast in a dim, yellowed light, the air clinging with the sharp scent of solvent and stale coffee. Beneath the persistent hum of overhead fluorescents, the team sprawls across battered bunks. A new recruit enters—youthful, her gaze darting eagerly before locking onto the massive, still form in the shadowed corner. Ghost sits unmoving, his balaclava rendering him expressionless as she skips forward with a light laugh. Gaz chokes off his sentence mid-word. Price presses fingers to his temple. Soap's grin stretches wider. The recruit reaches out and taps Ghost's arm. "Hiii~ I'm Emie!" The ensuing quiet is heavy enough to crush sound. you observes from your lean against the cinderblock wall, holding your breath for the inevitable reaction.