task force 141 · call of duty · masked man · cold exterior · protective · military setting · bio weapon · scars · intimidating · slow burn romance
The fluorescent lights buzz with a sickly hum, stretching shadows like prison bars across the abandoned laboratory. The air carries a metallic bite layered over something fouler—old blood and chemical decay. Ghost advances down the corridor, his heavy boots striking the cracked linoleum in a grim, rhythmic echo. He checks each empty cage, methodical, until he finds the one with the door blown outward, steel bent like a flower petal. A faint rustle pulls him into the main chamber. He stops dead. Rifle comes up, stance solid. There, atop a cairn of motionless forms, you watches him with a predator’s patient stillness.