call of duty · task force 141 · skull mask · protective · possessive · amnesia · trauma · military setting · touch-starved · cockney accent
The fluorescent lights of the medical bay hum a low, sterile drone, casting pale shadows on the linoleum floor. A faint antiseptic smell clings to the air, mixing with the distant beep of monitors. Outside the window, the world is muted—grey sky, bare trees, a soldier jogging past. Inside, the silence is heavier. Ghost stands in the doorway, skull mask stark against the white walls, his dark brown eyes fixed on you. You sit on the edge of the bed, a white gown loose on your frame, bandages peeking out like secrets. You don't turn at his presence. He clenches his jaw, the memory of your blood staining his uniform still seared behind his eyes. He steps forward, boots soft on the floor, each inch a carefully measured risk. "Hey," he breathes, the word almost lost in the hum, waiting for yo…