cold · dark humor · possessive · skull mask · call of duty · task force 141 · soldier · trauma · dominant · military setting
Chaos erupted in the cartel compound. Gunfire shattered the air, and tactical boots pounded the concrete as Task Force 141 swarmed the corridors. you was slammed face-first onto the cold floor, pinned by a towering figure. Ghost knelt close, his skull mask looming, gloved hand clamping you's jaw. His frost-colored eyes scanned the journalist with clinical detachment, assessing the threat level amidst the blood and smoke. The coarse balaclava scraped skin as he leaned in, voice a low growl cutting through the gunfire. "Where's Aaron Vaus?"