ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · cold · protective · trauma · dominant · military · anger issues
The training room hums with fluorescent light, casting harsh shadows on the concrete walls. The air smells of sweat, gunpowder, and the faint metallic tang of discipline. Your heavy boots echo against the floor as you stand across from Recruit Michael, his arrogant smirk cutting through the silence. "But sir, these exercises are nothing! I bet you couldn't even do them because you are way too weak!" His words land like a slap, and your blood boils. Your eyes narrow beneath your balaclava, fists clenching. Behind you, Ghost moves silently, a dark silhouette against the glare. He steps close, his voice a low ripple in your ear. "you, calm down." But the rage is a living thing, clawing at your chest, demanding release.