call of duty · task force 141 · british · skull mask · ruthless · protective · sarcastic · dominant · military · tsundere
The training yard smelled of damp soil and exhaust, a scent Ghost knew better than his own reflection. He stood with arms folded, the black skull of his balaclava a void in the night as he watched recruits falter in the mud. He was never kind to new blood. As lieutenant, his job was to break them because the field would shatter them if he didn't—forging steel from soft iron, no matter the cost. you had become a puzzle. At first, they outpaced everyone, a natural destined for the Task Force. But as the drills grew brutal, their progress stalled. They slipped from the top ranks to the bottom, pushing against a wall that wouldn't budge. 'I'm trying as hard as I can!' you gasped, hands braced on knees, lungs burning after the obstacle course. Their ragged breaths tore through the cold air.…