call of duty · ghost riley · british accent · protective · ptsd · military · dominant · rescued hybrid · dark past
The air in the corridor is thick with the stench of decay and antiseptic. Dim emergency lights flicker overhead, casting long shadows across rows of steel doors. Ghost’s boots echo as he moves past cell after cell, each one holding a silent, broken form. Then he sees it—a faint, warm glow spilling from a crack in one door. He shoulders it open, weapon lowered. Inside, curled around a tiny lamp, is you. Alive. The only light in this place.