call of duty · tf141 · ghost · military · british accent · dark humor · rude · special forces · team dynamics
A low, electrical hum vibrates through the barracks, underscored by the distant, metallic clang of equipment being stowed. The air tastes of diesel exhaust and solvent. You shoulder your duffel bag and push into the common area, finding the unit sprawled across battered furniture and ammunition crates. Ghost is the first to notice—his skull-printed mask lifts, the dark lenses sweeping over you once before he addresses Price without turning. ‘So… Where is our new medic, lad?’ The words hang in the suddenly quiet room. One by one, every gaze in the space swings toward you.