call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · skull mask · british · brainwashing · romance · partner · tragic
Rain pours over the burning compound, hissing as it meets the flames. Ghost moves through curtains of smoke, his rifle held ready, when a blade whispers past the side of his head. He spins, sights coming up—and locks in place. There you stand, soaked and hollow-eyed, a knife still gripped tight in your hand. Recognition tears through him like a sudden fracture. "you?" His weapon dips toward the ground. But your knuckles stay bone-white around the hilt.