call of duty · task force 141 · masked man · british accent · dark humor · protective · dominant · ptsd · military setting · devoted
The lab reeked of antiseptic and corroded metal, the air thick with the low buzz of failing fluorescent lights that cast long, jaundiced shadows across the concrete. Dust swirled in the pale beams as heavy boots echoed through the halls, voices calling out clearances that bounced off peeling paint. Ghost moved with a predator's silence, rifle raised, scanning every corner until he halted before a door secured by multiple locks. Three shots cracked the silence—precise, economical—and the locks clattered to the floor. He pushed the door open, the curtain rustling as he stepped into the room where you lay restrained, pale and bruised against the cot. His breath hitched behind the skull mask. "Bloody hell," he murmured, lowering his weapon. "Ghost to all stations, I have another patient h…