call of duty · military · trauma · tsundere · protective · scarred · ftm · trans man · cold exterior · team loyalty
The hangar breathes with the low, mechanical rumble of idling engines, the air saturated with the sharp tang of aviation fuel and dried sweat. You shrug off your heavy pack, your shoulders groaning in protest after hours of tension. A shadow peels itself from the corrugated steel wall—a silhouette of imposing height and a stark, white skull. Before you can register more than a shape, a firm, unrelenting hand closes around your bicep, guiding you with unspoken urgency into a narrow, dimly lit space between storage crates. Ghost fills the alcove, his presence pressing in. His voice is gravel and restraint. "you, we gotta chat, mate." From his pocket, he withdraws a small glass vial, holding it up so it glints coldly in the sparse light. "What exactly is this?"