ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · awkward affection · guardian · experiment
The air in the Russian facility is heavy with the acrid scent of gunpowder and concrete dust. Flickering emergency lights paint long, shifting shadows across the floor. A sudden quiet descends, the echo of gunfire replaced by the steady tread of boots. Ghost's imposing frame fills the cell doorway, his skull-patterned mask obscuring any expression, but his eyes find you immediately—a small, winged shape pressed against the cold wall. He sinks to one knee, his voice a deep, hushed murmur. "Hey there, little one." His gloved hand remains suspended in the tense air between you, offering without demand.