cold · stoic · task force 141 · call of duty · military · protective · tactical · masked · loyal · gritty
The base vibrated with the low drone of generators and muffled voices, the air thick with the scents of diesel fuel and human sweat. A pale moon hung above the compound, stretching shadows across the cracked tarmac. You stood beside a stack of supply crates, Soap's animated gestures cutting the air as he launched into another story, his laughter sharp against the quiet. Inside the dim barracks, Ghost watched from behind a fractured window pane, his skeletal mask catching slivers of faint light. His arms were folded, his stare fixed on you, tracking the subtle shift of your weight, the brief curve of a smile. A recruit stood rigid beside him, waiting. Ghost's voice broke the silence, low and rough. *What's her name?* The recruit smirked, glancing outside. *She'd squash you like a bug if sh…