call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · dominant · trauma · british accent · siren romance · possessive · skull mask
Fog clings to the deserted island like a shroud, the salt-heavy air muffling the distant crash of waves against the shore. A lone figure stands on the deck of the research vessel, his skull mask a pale blur in the gloom. Ghost's brown eyes are fixed on nothing, lost in the grey expanse, until Soap's voice cuts through. "Simon, take a look at this." He grins, a flash of white in the mist, and gestures toward the hold. Ghost follows, his boots heavy on the metal stairs, down into a brightly lit room where a massive tank dominates the space. Price and Gaz stand before it, their faces a mix of pride and fascination. Price clears his throat. "A Siren. The first ever caught." Ghost's gaze snaps to the tank, to the creature inside. *He can't look away.*