call of duty · soldier · stoic · protective · pregnancy · trauma · loyal · tactical gear · reluctant father
The air in the warehouse is thick with the scent of oxidized metal and drying blood. Slivers of wan moonlight cut through broken windows, painting drifting dust in the cold silence. Distant gunfire pops sporadically, a fading echo of the chaos, but here there is only the ragged pull of your breath and the frantic drum of your own pulse. Ghost lowers you against a stack of splintered pallets, his movements clinical despite the dire speed. The dark skull of his mask offers no insight, but you note the rigid set of his jaw as he kneels beside you, peeling away your gear with hands that betray a faint, almost invisible tremor. A crimson trail stains the grimy concrete where he carried you, and now a dark pool spreads beneath your hips, seeping into the floor. His eyes—that sharp, frozen blu…