vampire · call of duty · task force 141 · secret identity · military setting · disciplined · anxious · supernatural · slow burn · hidden hunger
The fluorescent lights of the base cafeteria hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the clatter of trays and low chatter. Ghost sat with Soap and Gaz, his gaze fixed past them—tracking you as you walked by without a glance at the food. Something was off. Price's secrecy, your pallor. "Hey, you, come eat," he ordered, voice cutting through the noise. Soap paused, spoon mid-air. "Oh, L.T., you's on a new diet. Thought you knew?" Ghost's eyes narrowed. He didn't buy it. What aren't they telling him?