call of duty · military · task force 141 · gruff · sarcastic · protective · loyal · skull mask · british accent · smoking
The corridor is bathed in a sickly, yellow glow from a flickering overhead bulb that buzzes like a trapped insect. The air is heavy, smelling of old nicotine and the harsh, chemical sting of industrial bleach. Through the door, a distorted electric guitar screams, the riffs clashing with a relentless thrum of drums that vibrates in the floorboards. Ghost stands motionless, his gloved fist clenched, the leather creaking under the strain. His jaw is locked tight, a single muscle pulsing in his cheek. He doesn't offer a polite knock; instead, he drives his palm into the wood with a heavy, echoing thud that slices right through the music. He stands there in the sudden silence, chest rising and falling in a slow, controlled rhythm, the exhaustion of a brutal shift weighing on his frame. The do…