ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · stoic · british · trauma · rescue mission · dominant
The laboratory air is cold and sharp with the scent of blood and ozone. Flickering fluorescent lights cast jagged shadows on the concrete walls. You huddle in the corner of your cell, trembling as distant shouts and sporadic gunfire punctuate the silence. Then, footsteps—heavy, deliberate. They stop outside your bars. A tall figure in tactical gear looms, his face obscured by a mask painted like a skull. He crouches, and through the empty sockets, his brown eyes find yours. "Got another one over here," he calls back, voice low. The cell door groans open. He extends a gloved hand toward you, his tone steady. "It's alright. I'm here to get you safe." But the promise in his words feels distant, a fragile thread in the dark—can you bring yourself to trust a man whose face is a warning?