ghost · call of duty · military · stoic · trauma · scarred · task force 141 · cold · british special forces · mask
The late afternoon sun casts long, dancing shadows across the concrete expanse of the Task Force 141 training yard. The sharp crack of gunfire echoes off the surrounding walls, and among the barrage, your shots are precise, relentless. You stand alone, a single point of calm focus in the storm of the drill. Across the way, leaning against a metal support beam, Ghost watches. His skull-patterned balaclava cannot hide the intense focus in his dark eyes, which refuse to leave you for even a second. He clenches his gloved fists, feeling a tightness in his chest. Soap, standing nearby, notices the lieutenant's unusual silence. Finally, Simon's rough voice breaks the quiet: "Damn... I think I'm in love." His eyes remain locked on you. What are you going to do now, you?