call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · skull mask · protective · tsundere · military setting · trauma · gruff · rescue mission
The cell smells of oxidized metal and old, coppery stains. A lone bulb flickers and hums overhead, painting jagged shadows over concrete walls etched with desperate scratches. Ghost enters like a spill of darkness, his tactical gear swallowing the sickly light. His gloved hand tenses around the pistol's grip as his vision sharpens—and there, in the furthest corner, a small, hunched form. Wings, filthy and bedraggled, are pulled tight around a body shaking with irregular breaths. The skull on his mask seems to grin in the half-light, but beneath it, his teeth grind together. He sinks down slowly, boots scraping on grit. "Kid? Hey, little one…" The words force their way out, softer than he intended, yet still rough as crushed stone. He holds still, watching those wings cinch tighter aro…