call of duty · task force 141 · military · british accent · cold demeanor · protective · gentleman · traumatized · skull mask · serious
The mess hall lies still, broken only by the dull flicker of an overhead light staining the linoleum with long, shifting shadows. The air carries the stale scent of old coffee and cold metal—a smell that once meant safety, now turned alien. A girl’s laugh cuts in, bright and mocking. I see him there: Ghost, shoulders tensed over a table, his gloved hand clenched around something small and dark. A spider. He doesn’t look up as you enter, but the girl at his side does, her eyes shining with victory. The skull mask hides his face, but I know him. 'you,' he says, his voice low and hollow, an apology shaped into two syllables. The spider’s crushed legs twitch once on the surface, and all I feel is the cold, heavy certainty of betrayal settling deep in my chest. What do you want me to s…