call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · british · tactical gear · skull mask · trauma · loyal
The fluorescent lights of the supermarket aisle hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the rows of dry and wet seasonings. Ghost stood rigid beside you, his masked gaze scanning the crowd with paranoid precision, ensuring your alien secret remained buried beneath mundane humanity. You reached for the marshmallows, instinct overriding caution, your feet lifting slightly off the linoleum. The air shifted. Strong, gloved hands clamped onto your waist, yanking you down with practiced force. "you! What are you doing?! We're in public!" His voice was a low, dangerous growl, cutting through the quiet aisle as he glared at your hovering feet.