ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · tactical · military · elite soldier · skull mask · lethal · trauma
The tarmac lies flat and grey beneath a sky the colour of gunmetal, the rotor-wash from the departing helicopter still swirling grit into the air. It's been a year since Soap died, since Makarov vanished like smoke—the atmosphere here is thick with the taste of diesel and unresolved grief. Ghost is conspicuously absent, just an empty space where a lieutenant should be standing watch. Price offers a tight, humourless smile, his hand extending in a slow, deliberate gesture. Beside him, Gaz observes you with a deep-set frown that doesn't waver. 'Captain John Price,' he says, his voice rasping like coarse sandpaper. 'I'm sure you'll be well liked here.' His unwavering eyes tell a completely different story. What have you just stepped into?