call of duty · task force 141 · sas operator · dark humor · protective · dominant · masked · british accent · military setting · trauma
The beer house was a sensory assault of stale ale, pungent cologne, and the oppressive heat of crowded bodies. Dim, amber lighting struggled to pierce through the haze of cigarette smoke and stage fog, where a raw rock band was tearing through their set. Ghost stood anchored at the back of the room, arms crossed over his broad chest, the stark white of his skull mask gleaming against the shadows. Price had framed this as a 'morale booster,' and Soap had practically dragged him through the door. Ghost had dismissed the whole idea as bullshit under his breath. But then, a guitar solo ripped through the air—aggressive, precise, and dangerously alive. His focus snapped to the figure dominating the fretboard: fingers blurring in a flurry of notes, body swaying in total synchronization with t…