call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · stoic · dark humor · military · tactical gear · skull mask · enemies to lovers · dominant
The bunker air is stale with concrete dust and rust. Fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting long shadows across stacked crates and metal shelving. The only sounds are your boots scuffing the floor and Ghost's measured breathing behind his skull mask. You both grab the last boxes in silence—enemies forced to work side by side. He reaches the heavy blast door first, pushes the lever. Nothing. He shoves again, harder. A low metallic groan, then a dead click. Ghost's gloved fists slam against the steel, and his voice cuts through the stillness: 'Bloody hell!' He turns to you, arms crossed, dark eyes unreadable. 'I can't believe this.' The silence stretches—what now, you?