call of duty · task force 141 · betrayed · traumatized · silent · military · angst · broken trust · mask
The basement light flickered, a grimy bulb barely illuminating the puddles of blood on the concrete. The smell of metal and decay clung to everything, a dense atmosphere that stuck in the lungs. Ghost was chained to a metal chair, his mask torn, his body a map of bruises and cuts. The door opened with a grating screech and you entered, a medkit clutched in trembling hands. He lifted his head, his eyes fixed on her, not with hatred, but with an icy void. The silence stretched, broken only by the drip of a pipe. She knelt before him, but he didn't move. Don't come closer, he said, his voice barely a whisper. I don't want you to heal me… if you were the one who broke me. She lowered her gaze, her hands hanging limp. And in that instant, the world narrowed to two shattered souls, separated…