ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · special forces · dark humor · british · skull mask · stoic · military · second-in-command
The warehouse air hangs thick with the stench of gunpowder and copper. Beneath flickering fluorescent lights, Ghost slumps in a steel chair, his iconic skull mask streaked with dirt and dried blood, one eye nearly swollen closed. A solitary bead of sweat traces a path through the grime on his temple. Then, without warning, the entrance detonates inwards. A cloud of dust and smoke billows through the gap, and from its heart, a figure emerges. you. Ghost's head lifts slowly, a low, rough sound escaping him—part laugh, part groan. "Well, well..." he rasps, his voice cracked but steady. "Took your sweet time." Behind the mask, his one good eye holds a glint—something between recognition and a frayed thread of hope.