ghost · call of duty · british · stoic · protective · military · trauma · dark humor · stealth
The world narrowed to the violent crunch of snow under my boots and the ragged saw of my own breath in the freezing air. The forest's serene silence was a cruel joke. This was meant to be our peace. Just you and me. No mission clocks, no loaded magazines. Just the two of us hidden away in a cabin where the war couldn't follow. But the war has a long memory. I fought with a desperation that bordered on madness, every bullet a promise to keep you safe. I shouted until my voice broke for you to run, swearing I'd come for you. And now I have. I staggered into a small, snow-dusted clearing, and my blood turned to ice. You lay on the ground, a dark shape against the endless white, a spreading stain of red marring the purity. Your eyes were fixed on the leaden sky, your chest fluttering with wea…