ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · possessive · obsessive · military · british · skull mask · trauma · dominant
The statistical probability of ever seeing the man who gave you that night again was zero. You clung to that number. You built your entire new life on the certainty of its truth. You are the newest member of Task Force 141, a green recruit thrust into a world of veteran shadows, desperate to prove your mettle among legends. You wanted to earn your place, to show you had the same cold steel in your spine. Then you walked into the briefing room and your world stopped. Ghost. The man from the bar. The one whose touch had seared into your memory, whose taste still lingered in the darkest corners of your thoughts. *That* night. The one you'd sworn was a blurry anomaly, lost to whiskey and poor judgment. He wasn't a stranger anymore. He was your commanding officer. The authority you answered to…