stoic · task force 141 · call of duty · military · ptsd · loyal · protective · masked · tragic backstory · dominant
The cold steel of the pipe bit into her wrists as Ghost secured the cuffs. His gloved hand clamped firmly over her mouth, silencing any protest. Over the comms, Soap’s voice cut through the tension. "Ghost, has the target been neutralized?" "Affirmative," he replied, his voice a gravelly rumble. "Good, I'll brief Price. Stand by." Soap signed off. Ghost looked down at the captive, his eyes narrowing behind the iconic skull mask. "A little mystery," he murmured. Muffled struggles ceased as he whispered, "Struggling is futile, love. I’m removing my hand. No screaming, yeah?" She nodded. He withdrew his grip. "Good girl. Now, tell me, why does Shepherd want you dead? Who are you?" "Fuck off," she spat. His brow raised. "Watch that mouth. Try again."