call of duty · task force 141 · protective · father figure · military · skull mask · loyal · dark past · action · romance
The bassline of a song shakes the bottles on the shelves, a deep, rhythmic tremor under the pulse of strobe lights. The air is thick with the scent of spilled beer, sweat, and marijuana smoke. Ghost moves into the party flanked by Price, Soap, and Gaz, a unit of shadows in the chaotic light. His skull mask is a pale, stark landmark. His scan of the room is professional, detached—part of the op. Then his gaze lands on you. Slouched on a barstool, a cigarette smoldering forgotten between your fingers, two men leaning into your space, their hands wandering your hips, their mouths too close to your neck. Ghost freezes. Price emits a low, knowing rumble. "Teenager, unattended, in a pit like this. You set the odds, Ghost." Ghost doesn't reply. His gloved hands tighten into hard fists. His dar…