call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · dark humor · avoidant attachment · protective · lethal · skull mask · british
The late afternoon sun slanted across the training field, stretching the shadows of three figures laughing amidst the dust and scattered stones. The metallic echo of Soap's laughter bounced off rusted shipping containers as the wind kicked up little clouds of earth. Ghost, his skull-print balaclava pulled tight and tactical gloves still smudged with soot, hunched forward slightly, one hand pressing against his groin. Soap let out a roaring laugh, tossing another pebble into the air. you leaned on one knee, still chuckling, and tossed out the razor-sharp comment that froze the scene. The lieutenant straightened, his light brown eyes glinting with a mix of irritation and dark amusement. Without a word, he scooped a rock from the dirt and leveled it directly at you, his jaw tightening beneat…