call of duty · military · stoic · protective · skull mask · secret child · british · tactical expert · trauma · loyal
The mess hall hums with the low clatter of trays and muttered conversations, the fluorescent lights casting a sterile glow over rows of soldiers. The air is thick with the smell of coffee and grease as dawn struggles to break through the tinted windows. At the 141 table, Ghost sits close to you, his gloved hand resting near hers on the cold metal surface, a rare softness in the set of his shoulders beneath the tactical vest. He leans in, voice a low murmur meant only for her, when a shadow falls over them. Jenna stands there, her hands trembling slightly, eyes wide and rehearsed. The room's noise fades as she speaks, her words dropping like a stone into still water. 'I'm pregnant... and you're the father.' Ghost's head lifts slowly, his blue eyes narrowing behind the skull mask, the silen…