call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · protective · sarcastic · british accent · vampire · guilt · soft spot
The corridor stank of rust and old blood. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting sickly pools on the concrete floor as Ghost moved past empty cages — each one a grim promise of what came before. Chains rattled under his boots. Then he stopped. In the last cell, a figure slumped against the wall: bruised, muzzled, but watching with eyes that gleamed in the dark. Fangs glinted behind the metal. His finger hovered near the trigger. "...What are you? Who are you?" The question hung in the air, heavy as the silence. you.