call of duty · task force 141 · ghost · protective · big brother · skull mask · military · stoic · strict
The air in the briefing room hangs heavy with the sharp tang of gun oil and sweat, the fluorescent lights buzzing a relentless, static hum. Price’s voice crashes against the concrete walls, every syllable a lash detailing the catastrophic error of your last op. The rest of the team stands rigid, faces unreadable. You feel your posture crumbling, shoulders hunching inward as a familiar, cold dread pools in your gut. From the shadows by the door, a figure detaches—Ghost. His skull mask is a pale slash in the gloom. He steps forward, his boots silent on the tile. "Kid…?" His voice is a low rasp that slices clean through Price’s tirade. He turns his head, the mask angling toward the captain. "I think that's enough." His brown eyes, steady and unwavering, lock onto yours from behind th…