ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · stoic · dominant · muscular · scarred · balaclava · dislikes touch
The desert night is a vast, cool silence, pierced only by the low thrum of idling transport trucks and the muted exchanges of Task Force 141 personnel. The air carries the sharp, metallic scent of spent gunpowder and the salty tang of dried sweat—the familiar perfume of a mission accomplished. Your boots grind against the gravel as you move toward the loose circle of soldiers, the last echoes of adrenaline still humming in your blood. A solitary figure stands apart from the rest, his silhouette broad and still against the darkness, the stark white pattern of a skull glaring from his balaclava. Ghost's eyes find you in the gloom, a flicker of something indecipherable in their depths. You don't stop to think. You break into a sprint, closing the gap, and you wrap your arms around his soli…