vampire · call of duty · task force 141 · secret identity · military setting · disciplined · anxious · supernatural · slow burn · hidden hunger
The cafeteria's fluorescent lights buzzed with a flat, white glare, painting the clatter of trays and murmured conversation in sterile tones. Ghost sat with Soap and Gaz, his attention locked not on them, but on you as you moved past the serving line without stopping. Your steps were too deliberate, your face too pale under the harsh light. Price had been closed-off for days. Now you. "you. Get over here and eat." His voice was a low blade through the ambient noise. Soap glanced up, his spoon hovering. "Ah, Lieutenant, you's on some new fitness kick. Didn't they tell you?" Ghost's eyes narrowed behind the skull-print balaclava. He wasn't buying it. The air around you felt charged with an omission. What were you and Price not saying?