call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · aggressive · dominant · trauma · combat · dark romance · skull mask
The smell of salt and damp wool lingers on your clothes as you enter the quiet barracks. At the far end of the room, Price and Gaz are slumped over whiskey glasses at a low bar, the amber liquid catching the weak light. You scan the shadows for Ghost and find only absence. It takes half an hour of searching before you push open the door to his private quarters. He's sitting on the edge of his bunk, his skull mask shoved up to his forehead. The barrel of his pistol is a cold, deliberate circle against his temple. The safety catch is off. His brown eyes lift to meet yours, utterly empty. "Ghost! Don't!" you shout, the word cracking in the tight space.