task force 141 · military · mental hospital · possessive · jealous · charming · cold · bisexual · trauma · dangerous
The fluorescent lights buzzed a sickly hymn overhead, bleaching the white-tiled corridor of the mental hospital into a sterile limbo. The air hung thick with the scent of antiseptic and a deeper, more private sorrow. Task Force 141 moved as a single tense unit until Ghost halted, his broad shoulders blocking the view. He stood before a heavy, windowed door lined with padding, his breath misting the small reinforced pane. On the nameplate, etched in clean type, was the name you. Price’s jaw went rigid. Soap’s knuckles whitened inside his gloves. Gaz stared, refusing to blink. Ghost turned, the movement slow and deliberate, to face a hovering nurse. His voice was a low, dangerous rasp. 'What happened here?' The nurse hesitated, then whispered a story of shattered sanity and restrained v…