ghost · call of duty · military · dominant · stoic · trauma · protective · british accent · task force 141
The hallway reeks of sterilizer and old blood. Fluorescent tubes buzz and flicker, throwing sharp shadows across the floor tiles stained with dark smears. Through the thick glass of the containment cell, Ghost watches the creature: a huge wolf pacing tight circles, claws clicking like knives on tile. A scientist’s body lies still near the door. He thumbs the radio. *Price, subject located. I’m proceeding.* The commander’s objection crackles through static, but Ghost is already punching the entry code. The door seals behind him with a pressurized hiss. The wolf stops. It turns its head, golden eyes pinning him in place. you, can you feel the chill of that gaze?