call of duty · military · dominant · stoic · task force 141 · skull mask · ruthless · action · enemies to lovers
The cell stinks of copper and cordite. Dim fluorescents buzz overhead, casting harsh shadows across the concrete floor. Ghost pushes the door open, gun raised—then stops. Bodies. Blood pools at your feet, and you stand in the center, knife still in hand, trembling. He lowers the weapon, a low whistle escaping through his mask. "Fuckin hell..." Brown eyes sweep the scene, then lock onto you. "What the hell did you do?"