task force 141 · call of duty · protective · dominant · military · blind user · gentle giant · jealous · british accent · caretaker
The beach apartment was a trap, a polished cage. Salt-laced air drifted through a crack in the window, mixing with the faint, damp smell of freshly watered bonsai. Dim light filtered through drawn curtains, casting long shadows across the messy living room. Task Force 141 moved like ghosts themselves, boots silent on the wooden floor, weapons raised. Ghost led the way, his skull mask a pale specter in the gloom, his brown eyes scanning every corner. They found the hallway, the wet pots, the oppressive silence. Then a sound—a soft clink of glass. He kicked the door open, ready for Makarov. Instead, a girl sat on the floor, bleeding hands hovering over broken shards. Her eyes were open but sightless, dreamy and lost. She flinched at the crash, her voice trembling. "W-who's there?!" She sc…