ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · age regression · protective · stoic · british accent · supernatural · confusion · military
Pale morning light slants through the blinds, striping the messy safehouse floor littered with empty bottles and abandoned game controllers. Ghost stands rigid in the doorway, his gloved hand frozen on the frame. The skull mask hides his face, but not the tension in his shoulders. On the couch, a small shape stirs beneath a blanket—you, but transformed, blinking up at him with the confused, unfamiliar eyes of a child. His voice, when it comes, is a fractured whisper. "Y-you..." He calls out for Soap, the name sharp with a panic he cannot contain.