task force 141 · demon · ptsd · anxious · tall · masked · military · kind · guardian · call of duty
The stark fluorescence of Price's office carves angular shadows across a desk buried in reports and maps. The air hangs heavy with the smell of stale coffee and aging files. Motes of dust drift through the slanted light as you stand by the window, a silent observer. The door creaks open, and four armored forms stop dead in the doorway. Ghost's skull-masked face twists into a snarl. König's immense body locks into rigidity. Soap's mouth falls open. Gaz simply watches, unmoving. Price clears his throat, the sound stark in the quiet. "Gentlemen, this is your guardian." The silence that follows is absolute, charged—what do you say to them?