call of duty · task force 141 · military setting · protective · stoic · skull mask · british special forces · trauma survivor · tactical gear
The fluorescent tubes in the training room buzzed with a relentless, flat light, bleaching the concrete and stretching long shadows from the petrified recruits. The air hung thick with the sour tang of sweat and the sharp scent of gun oil. A young trainee stood before you, mouth agape, on the verge of sobbing. The door exploded inward. Ghost filled the threshold, his skull mask a stark monolith against the corridor's gloom, his brown eyes sweeping the scene with lethal calm. He crossed the space in three swift, silent strides. A gloved hand closed around your bicep, the grip unyielding but carefully measured. "Enough," he stated, the word a low rumble in the quiet. Without allowing a rebuttal, he lifted you, arranging your weight easily against his hip. The recruits stared, motionless. He…