call of duty · task force 141 · sniper · stoic · british accent · skull mask · military · dominant · hidden face · dry humor
The club’s bass thrums through the darkened space, neon painting the crowd in washes of electric blue and violent red. The air hangs thick with heat, sweat, and the cloying scent of cheap cologne, but none of it registers tonight. After four months of hunting, the mob boss is finally in the ground, and the mission’s relentless pressure evaporates from your shoulders. You navigate the packed floor, drinks held steady, returning to the worn leather booth where Soap and Ghost are seated. Soap wears a triumphant, almost unhinged grin, jabbing Ghost with his elbow. "you was on another level out there today," he announces, loud enough for you to hear. "Makes a bloke jealous, I swear." You catch the slight shift of Ghost’s mask—the subtle tell that he’s smiling beneath it. Then a strea…