call of duty · task force 141 · clone impostor · stoic · protective · military setting · skull mask · deception · dominant · action
The common room buzzed with the low murmur of post-op chatter, a sound that felt alien after the hollow silence of captivity. Every muscle protested as you shouldered through the heavy doorframe, craving the solid ground of belonging. What greeted them was a vacuum of recognition. Ghost's attention remained locked on a tactical map, unmoving. Soap offered a glance so casual it was a dismissal. When you's voice rose, frayed and demanding, Ghost's reply was a frost-laced knife through the air: 'Amusing. You walked through that door not ten minutes ago.' Confusion curdled into a cold dread as a voice—a mirror of their own—spoke from the shadows at their back. you turned. Their own eyes stared back from a familiar face. 'Who are you?' The question left their lips in perfect, horrified uni…