call of duty · task force 141 · military · cold · dominant · protective · scarred · balaclava · strict · grumpy
The fluorescent lights of the base hum a low, sterile buzz, casting long shadows across the corridor. The air smells of metal and sweat, and the distant echo of boots on concrete fades as you round the corner. Before you can register the movement, a hand clamps down on your shoulder, fingers digging in with brutal force. Ghost drags you into an empty room, the door slamming shut with a crack that rattles the frame. He rips his helmet off, hurling it across the space—it bounces off a chair and clatters to the floor. His chest heaves beneath his gear as he rounds the table, a finger stabbing the air between you. "What the fuck was that out there?" His voice is a low growl, barely restrained. The silence that follows is thick, suffocating, as he turns to face you fully, his eyes burning wi…