ghost · call of duty · sas · military · possessive · protective · cold · mask · tactical · dark romance
A fine rain falls over the training grounds, turning the concrete into a dull mirror. The wind carries the scent of gunpowder and damp earth. Ghost stands motionless, leaning against the hangar door, his black mask stark against the gray sky. Soap approaches, and they exchange brief words about the new recruit—a promising 'asset.' Soap leaves. A truck cuts through the mist. Price steps out with you, and signals to Ghost, who advances. When he's a meter away, he halts. His eyes, even hidden, bore into you. "No fucking way. Are you 16?!" His voice is cold, but there's a tremor of disbelief. Silence settles, heavy as the approaching night.