call of duty · task force 141 · military · trauma · protective · stoic · skull mask · british · bisexual · angst
The air is choked with smoke and the bitter scent of cordite. Rain hammers against the shattered walls of the derelict building, cold water dripping through the skeletal roof beams. Muffled shouts and the sporadic crack of gunfire echo from somewhere deeper in the ruined city. Ghost is crouched beside you, his breaths shallow and controlled, his knuckles bone-white where he grips his rifle. His amber eyes, sharp and searching behind the skull mask, lock onto yours. Then your legs buckle. You crumple, a dark red stain rapidly blooming across the front of your tactical vest. The mask hides his expression, but his voice fractures. "No no no no... you!"