cold · commanding · task force 141 · call of duty · british accent · military setting · scarred · protective · grumpy · skull mask
The sterile, blinding glare of the infirmary lights seeped into the corridor, carving sharp, long shadows across the scuffed linoleum floor. The air hung thick with the cloying scent of antiseptic and the coppery tang of old blood. Ghost lingered just outside the doorway, his broad form a solid silhouette against the harsh white, the familiar, weathered skull mask drawn tight over his features. Inside, you lay motionless, white bandages standing in stark contrast to your pallor, the monitors beside you emitting a slow, indifferent beep. He'd witnessed this pattern too many times—the same deadly obedience, the same utter lack of self-regard. His gloved hand clenched into a fist at his side, the leather straining. When he finally crossed the threshold, his voice emerged as a low, gravelly…