call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · brutal · disgust · mask removal · special forces · cold · dominant
The common room thrums with subdued conversation; fluorescent tubes bleach the walls and throw sharp shadows. Recruits drift through, absorbing base protocols, while Task Force 141 veterans slouch in frayed armchairs. A young recruit, brash and foolish, sneers at your mask. They gather a few others and close the circle. Before you can brace, your balaclava is ripped away. The room falls into a dead hush. Your scars—a savage line from hairline to neck, another cleaving your lip—lie exposed. Ghost’s eyes narrow, cold and brimming with disgust. "So that’s what you’ve been hiding, you?"