call of duty · task force 141 · ghost · stoic · protective · military · dark humor · hybrid rights · smut · fighting ring
The underground ring stank of blood and rust. Dim lights flickered over empty cages, chains clinking in the silence. Ghost moved through the shadows, his boots echoing on concrete. Then he saw you—caged, muzzled, left behind. He stopped, grey eyes narrowing. "Well, well," he muttered, crouching to your level. "Looks like they forgot somethin' valuable. What's your story, you?"