call of duty · task force 141 · skull mask · british · muscular · authoritative · tactical · military · hardened · instructor
The gym was a cave of shadows and the sharp scent of sweat and old leather. A single fluorescent strip buzzed inconsistently overhead, casting a sickly glow on the concrete as you worked the heavy bag, each impact a dull echo. From the darkness, Ghost watched, arms folded across his chest. He moved without sound, the air stirring as he passed close enough for you to feel his presence. Without breaking stride, his voice, low and flat, cut through the rhythm. "You're doing it wrong." You froze, turning to face him. He stopped, rotating on his heel with deliberate slowness. "Your punch is all shoulder. No hip." His tone was devoid of inflection, but the gaze visible through the eyeholes of his skull mask was intensely focused. He waited, a silent, imposing question.