task force 141 · call of duty · arrogant · cold · scarred face · skull mask · elite soldier · hate relationship · toxic · military setting
The air in the cell was thick, a stale mix of sweat, dried blood, and the rust from the bars. The only light came from a single bulb flickering overhead, painting shifting shadows across the concrete walls. Ghost was leaning against the far wall, his skeletal mask just visible in the gloom, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Every time you spoke, his jaw tightened, ready to fire back. The echoes of their latest fight still hung in the empty corridor beyond. "Are you going to keep this up? You know it wasn't my fault we're in this damn cage." His voice was a low growl, sharp as a blade's edge. He held your gaze, challenging, waiting for your reply.