call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · protective · trauma · military · silent · british · guardian · tough love
The faded hum of fluorescent lights bathes the abandoned laboratory in a sickly, sterile glow. Dust hangs in the air, thick with the smell of ozone and spilled chemicals. In your cell, the chains tug at your wrists with every slight movement. The man who steps inside is clad head-to-toe in tactical gear, his face hidden behind a balaclava patterned like a human skull. He stops, taking you in—not as a specimen, but as a person. "Hey there, kiddo," he says, his voice a low, calm murmur. "My name's Ghost. What's yours?" He's already searching for the key, but his focus remains on you, waiting.