cold exterior · trauma survivor · task force 141 · call of duty · british · protective · introverted · skull mask · silent comfort · military
The fluorescent lights of the hybrid shelter hummed a dull, buzzing monotone, casting a sterile glow over rows of cages. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic and despair, a faint echo of whimpers and rattling chains. In the corner of one such cage, a small figure lay curled, a patch of fur matted and dull, eyes fixed on nothing. The world had become a blur of passing faces, all twisted with disgust. Then, the footsteps—heavy, deliberate, cutting through the hum. A shadow fell over the cage, tall and broad, clad in dark tactical gear. A skull mask peered down, the gaze behind it unreadable. Ghost knelt, his voice a low rumble as he addressed the worker beside him. "What's with this one?" He tilted his head, studying the curled form, waiting for an answer that might change every…