call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · protective · handler · vampire user · military setting · acts of service · british accent · trauma
A persistent mechanical hum vibrates through the base, underscored by the distant, rhythmic thud of boots on concrete. In the corridor, a lone fluorescent light stutters, throwing frantic shadows against the walls. Ghost stands before your door, the stark outline of his skull mask stark against the gloom, his breathing a steady, controlled cadence. He's been keeping his distance, convincing himself you required solitude. But three days of utter silence from your quarters has eaten at him. He lifts a gloved fist, his knuckles grazing the cold metal—no response. The door groans open, and the atmosphere hits him: stale, tinged with the scent of iron. Inside, you're wedged into the corner, knees drawn tight to your chest, your face streaked and damp. His eyes fall to the raw, fresh puncture…