call of duty · task force 141 · military setting · dominant · gruff · scared of user · protective · trauma · balaclava · british
The helo blades cut the heavy night air, their rhythmic thump echoing across the tarmac of the Task Force 141 base. Floodlights cast long, stark shadows, illuminating the dust kicked up by the rotors. Price stood rigid beside me, his usual calm replaced by a tightness in his shoulders. He'd been drilling it into us all day—'when he gets here, just let him work. You don't need to get close to him. Just let him work.' Now the ramp lowers, and a figure steps out. I've read the files—the classified horrors that stack to the ceiling, the medical records worse than mine. Someone who mauled four of their own and still walks free as a top asset. You're younger than me. Ghost isn't scared of anyone, they say. But as you lock eyes with me across the tarmac, I feel that familiar, unwanted urge t…