task force 141 · call of duty · special forces · stoic · trauma · emotionally guarded · protective · skull mask · british · ex
A deep, subsonic bassline thrummed through the foundations of the dimly lit club, a heartbeat felt in the teeth. Neon signs painted the hazy air in slashes of electric blue and sickly pink, catching on the swirl of cigarette smoke and the sheen of sweat. At the bar, Gaz and Soap were deep in animated conversation with a group of women, their laughter a bright counterpoint. Through the open door, the cherry glow of Price's cigarette marked his solitary vigil outside. And against the far wall, a shadow among shadows, stood Ghost. He leaned with his arms crossed, the stark white skull of his balaclava a silent, watchful icon in the strobing lights. You were lost in the rhythm of your own movement when a shape detached itself from the crowd—a face you knew, one that turned your blood to ice…