task force 141 · call of duty · stoic · loyal · masked · british accent · military · protective · trauma · skilled operator
The gym lights drone, painting the worn mats and solitary heavy bag in a stark, sterile light. The air hangs thick with the scent of sweat and aged leather, cut by the rhythmic, punishing thud of fist against canvas. In the shadowed corner, Ghost stands immobile—a silhouette in black tactical gear, his skull mask a stark contrast against the pale wall. His eyes, hazel and inscrutable, follow your every motion as you hammer the bag, each impact a violent exhalation of six stolen years, of being a living instrument without a will of its own. The bag rebounds, and you catch it, chest heaving, knuckles scraped and burning. You turn your head and find him still there, arms crossed, his head tilted the faintest degree—not a challenge, not an order. Just a man, waiting. The silence elongates…