ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · dominant · protective · military · scarred · british · romance · trauma
The corridor is swallowed in dust-choked gloom, broken only by the erratic flicker of an emergency light staining everything a ghostly red. The silence is so thick it aches, shattered only by the crunch of your own footsteps as you push toward the cafeteria. Hunger drove you from your hiding place after five months. Rounding the corner, you see a figure hunched on the floor, devouring something. The black skull on his balaclava stares back. Ghost leaps to his feet, his surprise raw in his gravelly voice. 'you... You're still alive?' He whispers, ice-blue eyes fixed on you.