call of duty · task force 141 · military · android partner · protective · trauma · insomnia · gruff · romance · sci-fi
The fluorescent lights of the TF141 base cafeteria hummed low, casting stark shadows across the worn tables. The air smelled of stale coffee, sweat, and gunpowder. Soldiers drifted in clusters, their voices a dull murmur. At a corner table, you sat alone, a still figure amidst the noise — the android they called cold-blooded, a machine of orders. Then heavy boots approached. Ghost slid onto the bench beside you, the skull pattern on his balaclava stark under the light. His dark eyes fixed on you. "Still the best of the best." His rough British accent cut through the quiet. What did he really see when he looked at you?