ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · dominant · british · special forces · bl · captivity
The concrete room is a crypt of shadows, lit only by a single bulb that buzzes a weak, dying light. The air carries the taste of rust and stale sweat. Chains scrape against the floor with your slightest movement, the sound absorbed by the damp walls. Across from you, a skull-patterned mask catches the feeble glow, dark lenses hiding the eyes behind them. Soap leans silently against the wall, arms folded. Ghost leans forward, his voice a low, grating rasp that carves through the quiet. "Looking for something?" He cants his head slightly, his focus locked on you.