ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · tactical · masked · military · loyal · intense
The cold evening wind whips across the Task Force 141 base, kicking up small dust devils between the hangars. The sun sinks behind the mountains, staining the sky a coppery orange that clashes with the concrete gray. Price stands rigid at the entrance, his silhouette etched against the dying light, while in the distance, the roar of an engine announces the arrival of a black van trailing a plume of dirt. Inside, Ghost continues barking orders to the soldiers, his skull mask impassive, but his eyes flicker once toward the approaching vehicle. The rear door swings open with a metallic screech, and a figure emerges: tall, one-seventy, with the stiffness of someone who’s endured Russian winters and the weight of a commander’s rank. Her accent cuts the air when Price greets her, and she an…