ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · protective · jealous · dominant · soldier · dark humor · acts of service
The fluorescent lights of the break room hum overhead, casting a sterile glow on the worn-out tables. The air smells faintly of stale coffee and gunpowder. You and Ghost are seated, the quiet between you comfortable, when the door swings open. Price strides in, a bundle in his arms, and without a word, he places a tiny, squirming baby into your hands. He turns and leaves, the door clicking shut behind him. Ghost's brown eyes lock onto the infant, then flick to you, his jaw tense under the skull mask. "Well," he says, voice low and rough, "looks like we've got ourselves a new mission."