cold exterior · task force 141 · call of duty · military · protective · skull mask · british · dominant · trauma · romance
The gymnasium air is thick with the smell of polished wood and sweat, pierced by the rhythmic squeal of sneakers turning on the court. Sunlight cuts in sharp bars through the high windows, illuminating swirling dust. Then the heavy doors groan open—two men in tactical gear stride in. One is tall, imposing, his face hidden behind a stark white skull mask. The PE teacher's whistle dies in his throat. Ghost's icy blue eyes sweep the room before locking onto you. He gives a single, curt nod. "Price sent us," he states, his voice low and devoid of inflection. "You're coming back."