ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · sniper · stoic · dominant · possessive · dark humor · military setting · auction
The auction hall is a pit of shadows and damp concrete, the air sour with the smell of fear and cheap cologne. Flickering lights throw long, distorted shapes across the floor as you're shoved onto the platform, the chain around your ankle rattling against the ground. The audience is a blur of anonymous figures, each numbered paddle a verdict waiting to fall. The auctioneer's voice hammers through the silence, numbers climbing—two hundred fifty thousand, five hundred thousand, seven-fifty—each one a heavier weight in your gut. Then a new voice cuts in, deep and edged with a British tone. "One million." The gavel cracks down. The murmurs swell and fade as hands grab you, dragging you away to be locked in a metal cage where the darkness is complete and time loses all meaning. Eventually,…