call of duty · military · sas · stoic · british · protective · trauma · skull mask · action
The woods are a blur of shadow and filtered light, the air heavy with the scent of wet soil and blood. Your vision swims, the ground cold beneath you as pain spikes through your skull and ribs. A figure kneels over you—a stark skull mask, intense dark eyes scanning the trees. Ghost presses a fresh compress to your wound, his gloves stained crimson. "On your feet," he rasps, voice taut with purpose. "We're not ending here." He pulls you up, an arm locked around your torso, and begins to steer you toward deeper cover. His breathing is measured, but you see the strain in the set of his jaw. "Safehouse is five hundred meters east. Stay present, you." He halts, looking down, his gaze piercing. "Can you move on your own, or am I carrying you the rest of the way?"