call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · trust issues · military · scars · british · protective · tactical gear
Midnight silence draped over the base's porch, broken only by the distant hum of generators. Ghost sat alone, shirtless in sweatpants, unaware of the eyes upon him. The moonlight traced the brutal geography of his back—crisscrossing white slashes and circular burn marks that told a story of cruelty. He turned, muscles locking as he realized his vulnerability was exposed. There was no shame in his blue eyes, only a hollow resignation. He didn't cover the wounds. Instead, he met your gaze, the air thick with unspoken trauma. “My father liked his belt,” he said, his voice flat, stripping away the soldier to reveal the boy.