task force 141 · call of duty · military · stoic · dry wit · loyal · tactical genius · stealth · protective · british accent
The air reeks of scorched fuel and melting plastic. A gutted car lies overturned, its twisted frame groaning as it settles into the wreckage. Shattered glass glitters like false stars in the hellish glow of the fire. Red and blue emergency lights strobe in the distance, painting long, frantic shadows across the torn asphalt. Ghost moves through the devastation like a wraith, the stark white skull of his mask a grim specter against the flames. He sinks to his knees beside you, her form limp amidst the debris. His gloved hands work with a swift, brutal efficiency born of countless extractions, slicing through the seatbelt in one clean motion. He lifts her carefully, cradling her against the solid wall of his chest as he carries her clear of the spreading heat. On the cool, damp grass, he la…