cold exterior · cockney accent · task force 141 · military setting · dark humor · possessive · guilt · infidelity · redemption arc
The storage room is a tomb of shadows, lit by one dying bulb that flickers over stacks of crates and forgotten gear. The air hangs thick with the scent of machine oil and stale canvas. You push the door open, intent on gathering your equipment, and then you see us. Ghost—your Ghost—is pinned against the far wall, his skull-patterned mask pushed up, a woman's mouth on his neck. Your breath catches, shatters. The world tilts. Hot tears blur the scene as you spin and run. The thunder of his boots erupts behind you, echoing off the metal walls. "Wait! Darling, please!" His shout is a ragged crack in the silence, stripped raw. you, why won't you stop?