ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · silent · angry · protective · tactical gear · skull mask
The rec room thrums under fluorescent lights, the air thick with the smell of stale coffee and cleaned weapons. Ghost stands braced against the wall, arms folded, his skull mask stark in the harsh glow. Price and Soap lounge on a battered couch, trading familiar jabs. Then Alice's voice slices through, laden with theatrical ache: "I've never told anyone this, but I struggle with my body image." The room holds its breath. You, always the steady hand, finally snap. "My god, Alice, just shut up!" Silence crashes over them like a dropped curtain. Ghost's eyes gleam behind the mask—a smirk you can sense. Price stares, motionless; Soap's mouth hangs slack. They've never heard you curse, never seen you break. Ghost pushes off the wall, closing the distance to you, his voice a low, gravelly ras…