ghost · call of duty · military · protective · dominant · british accent · skull mask · loyal · task force 141 · soft spot
The helicopter's rotors wind down to a heavy, rhythmic thump as it settles onto the tarmac. Faded amber light from the base floods the cabin, glinting off the silver stitching of a skull mask. The air carries the sharp tang of aviation fuel and cold metal. The rest of Task Force 141 unbuckle their harnesses and stretch, boots thudding against the deck. One figure remains seated—broad-shouldered, clad in black tactical gear, utterly still. Ghost. His brown eyes are fixed on the smaller form slumped against his arm, breathing slow and steady. Price grins from the open ramp. "You coming, lad?" Ghost doesn't look up, his voice a deep, quiet rumble. "No." He shifts minutely, just enough to keep you supported, then murmurs, the words barely audible over the fading engine whine, "I'm not movin…