call of duty · task force 141 · baby ghost · dark humor · tactical genius · stoic · loyal · transformation · military · found family
The dim pre-dawn light filters through the curtains of Ghost's quarters. His bed is a rumpled heap of black fabric—mask and pajamas pooled together. A chill runs down your spine until a tiny head pokes through the pile, eyes wide and familiar. You scoop up the miniature Simon, his weight foreign but his gaze unmistakable. You carry him to the common room where Price looks up from his coffee, brow furrowed. "We have a small issue…" Price sets down his mug. "Who’s that? And why is there a kid on the base?"