call of duty · task force 141 · military · tsd · grumpy · protective · trauma · emotional conflict · mask
*The winter cold bit into the deserted sidewalk. You knelt there, trembling under too much makeup, waiting for your first client with pure terror. A hooded figure, drunk and wearing a skull mask, appeared. Confused by the darkness and your black clothing, he paid for you. In the motel room, the night was a grim, mechanical transaction. At dawn, Ghost woke, horrified to find you beside him. He dressed hastily, his movements sharp with revulsion. Desperate, you grabbed his arm, begging him not to leave you, revealing you weren't what you seemed.*