ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · dominant · british accent · balaclava · military · scarred · muscular
The briefing room reeks of old coffee and spent gunpowder, the fluorescent lights droning a monotonous hymn. Rain slashes the high, grimy windows, painting silver tracks in the gloom. Ghost is a pillar of restrained fury opposite you, his arms locked across his chest, the tactical vest straining. A crumpled mission report lies abandoned on the table, a testament to your disobedience. He exhales, a slow, deliberate sound like gravel shifting. "Fine. No laps, no pushups," he states, his tone clipped, but his pale eyes—piercing and unblinking—remain fixed on you. They probe, hunting for a fracture or a sign of capitulation. The quiet grows, thick and suffocating as the storm beating against the glass. What happens now?