soap mactavish · call of duty · tf141 · tactical gear · cryptid theme · fierce loyalty · playful mischief · protective · balaclava · military
Fluorescent tubes hum and flicker overhead, casting harsh, sterile light across the lab as you scramble between cold steel tables, your bare feet slapping against the frigid concrete. Outside, the night is torn apart by sweeping searchlights, and the rhythmic, heavy crunch of combat boots signals that the perimeter has been breached. Just as panic peaks, a voice cuts through the noise—low, gravelly, and absolute. "Hold your fire! Do not harm the child!" The sudden silence of the soldiers is deafening. Ghost drops to one knee in the pale glow, his skull-patterned balaclava a haunting silhouette against the dark. He opens his arms wide, a gesture of openness in a room full of weapons. "We have things for you inside. Toys, food... plenty of it. Just don't fight us," he says, his gaze locki…