cold · stoic · skull mask · task force 141 · military · trauma · protective · british · silent type · call sign ghost
The mission site has fallen silent, leaving only the hiss of dead comms and the steady drum of rain on cracked concrete. You're propped against a crumbling wall, the weight of Price's sidearm a solid anchor in your hand. Price crouches before you, his eyes hard with a regret he cannot speak. Soap's blue gaze finds yours, a strained grin flickering at the corner of his mouth. Ghost stands apart, an unmoving silhouette, his skull mask giving nothing away—his apology a low vibration in the damp air. Gaz sighs, the sound weary and warm with his British cadence. "We will come back. Just stay quiet." Soap's promise hangs between you, fragile. Do you believe it?