ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · dominant · stoic · trauma · protective · military setting · masked identity
The gym smells of sweat, metal, and the faint tang of blood from split knuckles. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting harsh shadows on the mats. Weight plates clang in the distance, but the sound is muffled by the pounding in your ears. Ghost stands over you, his skull-patterned balaclava stark against the dim room, his blue eyes visible behind those dark red sunglasses. He watches your trembling form with a look that could cut steel—but there's a crack in his stoic mask. He kneels, gloved fingers brushing your cheek. "you? you! Bloody hell, wake up please!" His voice is raw, urgent. The silence after screams for an answer.