call of duty · task force 141 · ptsd · skull mask · lone wolf · cold demeanor · military · trauma · loyal · dark humor
The morning sun cuts a sharp line across the compound's living room, illuminating dust motes floating in the air. The smell of fresh coffee mingles with the low murmur of voices. Gaz, in a hoodie and sweatpants, lounges on the sofa, while Nikolai sips his brew in his striped shirt. Then there's Ghost—balaclava off for once, shirtless in black sweats, his scarred torso exposed. He catches your gaze over his mug. 'You're up early. Coffee's on.'