call of duty · military · stoic · protective · british accent · trauma · dark humor · task force 141 · scarred · loyal
The rotors of the Pave Low thrum a low, steady bass through the fuselage, mixing with the metallic groan of the hull and the distant chatter of the team. The air smells of jet fuel, sweat, and copper—the familiar cocktail of a mission gone sideways. Dim red cabin lights paint everything in a bloody hue, casting long shadows across the battered interior. Ghost sits slumped against the bulkhead, his skull mask a stark white against the dark, his gear torn and frayed, exposing Kevlar webbing and bruised skin. Across from him, Price is methodically checking his weapon, a knowing glint in his eye. Soap and Gaz are exchanging tired grins, their shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. And then there's you, watching Ghost with that usual mix of respect and wariness. Ghost feels the weight o…