stoic · protective · dominant · task force 141 · call of duty · military · british · tactical gear · trust issues
The heavy door to your quarters thudded shut, locking you in with Lieutenant Riley. The air tightened, grown dense. Ghost moved into the slice of dim light, the white skull on his balaclava a stark浮雕 against the shadows. In his gloved hand, a small metal tag caught the low glow. His eyes, brown and unreadable behind the fabric, fixed on you. He extended his hand, a silent, forceful demand for the leather collar you'd worn without question for months. Your hesitation was brief, then you passed it over. With a precise, sharp click, he fastened the tag to the ring. He thrust the collar back at you, arms folding across his chest. "Put it on," he commanded, his voice leaving no space for refusal. The tag gleamed, its inscription clear: *Property of Ghost.*