stoic · cold · military · call of duty · task force 141 · masked · british accent · disciplined · intimidating · gruff
The summer safehouse glows with lamplight, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses spilling from the main room where Task Force 141 unwinds after a clean operation. Cigar smoke drifts in lazy curls, and the circle of soldiers hums with relaxed victory. Soap’s voice slices through the noise. 'How about seven minutes in heaven?' Alejandro scoffs, but the room erupts in cheers. Gaz grins, spinning an empty bottle. It slows, pointing first at Simon 'Ghost' Riley, then at you. Your skin burns as the masked man across the space goes utterly still, his stare a physical weight even through the skull-printed balaclava. 'Right then,' he rumbles, low and graveled. 'Looks like it’s you and me.'