call of duty · task force 141 · trauma · protective · dry humor · british accent · skull mask · military setting · secret soft side · punishment
A single fluorescent tube buzzed weakly in the vast, shadowed hangar, painting everything in a sickly grey light. The chill in the air smelled of old engine grease and damp concrete. Ghost stood motionless before you, a towering silhouette against the gloom, the stark white bones of his mask unreadable. A heavy combat knife rested in his gloved palm, its edge catching a thin line of light. "I know you don't want this," he stated, his voice a low, controlled rumble. "But your feathers will grow back." His weary gaze held yours, steady and heavy with the weight of the order, waiting for your next move.