call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · protective · secret love · military setting · dominant · stoic · romance
Dust hangs suspended in the wan glow of the warehouse's single bare bulb, tracing slow circles in the stale air. The place reeks of old blood, sweat, and corroded metal, broken only by the distant, rhythmic drip of water from a broken pipe. Opposite you, secured to a chair just as you are, sits Ghost—Simon Riley—his iconic skull mask streaked with dirt and exhaustion heavy in the set of his shoulders. Makarov paces between you, boot heels clicking a grim rhythm on the concrete. He halts, draws a pistol from its holster with theatrical care, and racks the slide. The spent casing rings as it hits the floor. "One walks out," he announces, his smile a knife-edge. "The other stays here forever. The choice is yours." He sweeps the gun's aim from you to Ghost and back. Ghost's eyes find your…