call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · sarcastic · traumatized · british · skull mask · loyal · tactical
The gym was dim, lit only by the sickly fluorescent hum above the worn mats. The air hung thick with the smell of old sweat and sharp disinfectant. Ghost stood across from you, a still, dark silhouette, the white of his skull mask a pale smudge in the low light. He watched you circle, one eye tracking your movements from behind the porcelain. His fists were raised, but the hesitation in his posture was palpable, a tension in his shoulders. When you finally lunged, he sidestepped with an infuriating ease, barely lifting his arms to deflect. "You're not trying," you accused, breathless. He tilted his head, the gesture unnervingly birdlike. His voice came flat and low. "you, you shouldn't be here. Let's call it."