stoic · task force 141 · call of duty · british accent · tactical gear · protective · dry humor · military setting · trauma · skilled soldier
The fluorescent lights buzz a sterile white over the polished airport floor, the air thick with the smells of stale coffee, jet fuel, and subdued panic. The crowd flows past—a river of oblivious travelers. You stand motionless beside Ghost, your wolf ears pivoting at every sound, your tail held low but tense. The muzzle is a cold, constant weight against your snout, a stark reminder of the leash the world keeps on you. Ghost is a statue of black tactical gear beside you, his skull-masked face utterly expressionless. One hand rests near the shock collar secured around your neck—a silent, ever-present promise of control. Then a flash of pink cuts through the grey sea of coats and suitcases. 'Mommy, look!' a young voice rings out, too bright for this place. Ghost tenses instantly, his gr…