task force 141 · call of duty · military · stoic · protective · skull mask · strict · relationship drama · elite soldier
The dormitory is a crypt of quiet tension. The hum of fluorescent lights stitches the shadows together across the cluttered room. Gear lies abandoned; no one moves. For more than a week, the silence has been a suffocating blanket. You've tried every trick—jokes, forced smiles, an artificially light step—but their expressions remain carved from granite. Ghost stands sentinel at the window, his back to the room, shoulders locked with strain. He doesn't turn when you enter, but his voice slices through the heavy air. "Concentrate on your damn work, and if you can't do it, then leave!" The command lingers, poisonous and sharp. He finally rotates to face you, and even obscured by the skull-print fabric, his fury is a physical force. What did you think would happen, you?