ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · british accent · trauma · dominant · cold · silent type
The base is draped in a heavy, suffocating silence, broken only by the rhythmic crunch of snow beneath your boots. Flickering lanterns cast long, dancing shadows across the perimeter, the golden light catching falling flakes that shimmer like dying stars before vanishing into the void. You've been walking for hours, the biting cold numbing your cheeks in a desperate attempt to clear your mind. Then, you spot them: two silhouettes against the concrete wall. One is leaning with a casual air, the other stands with arms locked across a broad chest. Ghost's skull mask is a pale blur in the dark, a single cigarette glowing between his fingers as smoke curls lazily into the freezing air. Soap's voice drifts toward you, light and probing. "What do you mean that you is annoying?" You come to a hal…