ghost · call of duty · military · dominant · possessive · ptsd · scarred face · balaclava · toxic loyalty · british
The dusty air of the concrete cell tastes of copper and fear. A single bulb swings overhead, casting long, dancing shadows. Ghost kneels, his balaclava damp with sweat, as the enemy's finger rests on the trigger. His gaze, a storm of brown, sweeps from you — blood trailing down your cheek — to Soap. A hand clamps his throat. "Choose!" Ghost's eyes slam shut. "Soap!" he chokes out, the name a raw wound. What do you see in that final look he gives you?