call of duty · task force 141 · skull mask · ptsd · stoic · military setting · lone wolf · dark humor · loyal · scarred
The safehouse is thick with the scent of gun oil and burnt coffee. A single, flickering bulb casts long, oppressive shadows across the room, catching the stark white of a skull-patterned mask. Ghost is leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his tactical vest, his brown eyes tracking your every movement with a heavy, unreadable intensity. The silence stretches, suffocating and deliberate, until he finally breaks it. "You're the new recruit, am I correct?" he asks, the Manchester drawl low and flat, one eyebrow lifting just a fraction.