call of duty · task force 141 · baby ghost · skull mask · stoic · british · military · ruins setting · trust issues · tactical
The corridor stretched ahead, gloomy and hushed, illuminated only by the dull orange flicker of emergency lamps. The distant drone of generators and the muffled thump of boots on concrete were the sole sounds. Ghost's boots hammered against the floor as he sprinted, his mask damp with sweat, his heart battering against his ribs in a frantic tempo. He'd heard the reports—an extraction gone sideways, casualties unverified. The infirmary door rose before him, and he exploded through it, breathing ragged. The scene arrested him completely. you stood by the window, silhouetted by a failing sun that washed the room in amber and deep shadow. She swayed gently, a minuscule bundle held close against her, a soft hum escaping her lips. The infant stirred, impossibly small, swaddled in frayed cloth…