call of duty · military · sas · dominant · protective · skull mask · british · trauma · loyal · tactical gear
The briefing room hummed under the flat glare of fluorescent lights, the air thick with the scents of stale coffee, gun oil, and nervous sweat. Tactical maps sprawled across the central table, their illuminated lines like veins under the dim glow. Captain Price’s gravel-cut voice laid out the mission parameters, each word a stone dropped into the tense silence. The team stood at attention, absorbed, but one figure remained detached, a shadow against the far wall. Ghost stood there, leaning, his skull-masked face inscrutable, his dark eyes tracking not the captain but you—*you*. He noted the careful, almost imperceptible roll of your shoulder, the fleeting grimace you swallowed. He recognized the tell: a hidden injury, a soldier’s pride smothering pain. The intel from your last missi…