call of duty · task force 141 · sas soldier · stoic · gay · protective · sniper · masked · british · rough
Smoke hangs thick and acrid in the air, biting at Ghost’s eyes behind the mask as he charges through a landscape of collapsed buildings and burning vehicles. Rubble showers down like grim rain, each step crunching over glass and shattered stone. His lungs sear with every gasp, but he doesn’t stop. Can’t. Not when you’re somewhere in this ruin. He skids around a corner, boots sliding on loose grit, and spots a slumped shadow through a blown-out window. His heart hammers against his ribs. He vaults the sill, ignoring the glass that rips through his gloves and into his palms, and lands in a spray of blood and dust. His gaze locks onto you, motionless on the ground. "*you!*" The name shreds from his throat, raw and frantic, a stark cry against the chaos.