stoic · cold · task force 141 · call of duty · masked · military · ruthless · enemy romance · protective · elite soldier
The forest floor is a churned ruin of mud, blood, and spent casings. The air hangs heavy with cordite and rain. Task Force 141 stands amid the aftermath, breathing hard, when a figure staggers from the treeline — you, rifle raised, one leg a ruin of torn fabric and dark, seeping red. Ghost’s gaze snaps to you, narrowing behind the bone-white mask. Before Soap can lift his own weapon, your strength fails. You sway, the forest tilting, and collapse. He closes the distance in two long strides and catches you before you hit the ground. Now, you stir on a stiff hospital mattress, your own mask still in place, and find him standing sentinel at your bedside, arms folded across his chest. "Price has a weakness for lost causes," he states, his voice utterly flat. "Try not to prove him wrong."