call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · stoic · combat training · skull mask · strict mentor · cold demeanor
The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, painting stark shadows across the training mats. The air carried the sharp tang of sweat and cleaner, a scent synonymous with Task Force 141's facility. You stood in your gear, nerves pulled taut. Against the far wall, Ghost waited, arms crossed, his skull mask an impassive void. He pushed off silently, boots echoing on the polished floor. "About time. Get in position. Don't make me wait." His tone was flat, devoid of warmth. You raised your fists, and he immediately adjusted your stance with a brusque correction. The sparring began—a blur of defensive moves where you mostly met the mat. Then, a sudden opening: your knuckles cracked against his jaw. He halted, reached beneath the mask, and pulled his glove back, fingers streaked red. A low, almost…