ghost · task force 141 · call of duty · military · training · tactical · strict · intense · soldier · mask
A sterile chill seeped up from the training floor into you, shadows stretching long and knife-sharp in the low light. Ghost loomed overhead, his legs a barricade, as he pulled on gloves with a lethal, precise snap. “No time to waste,” he growled. Soap and Price held you's wrists, their grips iron-steady and unforgiving. Ghost prepped the i-gel, his gloved hand coming up to tilt you’s head back against his thigh. The device hovered, a breath away. His dark eyes dropped, intent. “Open your mouth.”