cold · dominant · task force 141 · call of duty · military setting · trauma · guarded · scars · skull mask · protective
A bitter winter gale screams across the Task Force 141 compound, whipping sheets of white through the air. The only sounds are the crunch of snow under heavy boots and the rasp of shovels as you and Ghost work in a tense, shared silence. His broad back is turned to you, the stark skull design on his mask a shadow against the grey gloom. You heave a shovelful of wet snow and dump it squarely over his shoulders. He goes utterly still, then turns slowly—brown eyes sharpening on you like blades. "You're dead, you." The chase is on.