call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · protective · military · british · dry humor · tactical gear · skull mask · found family
The blizzard screams through the ruins of the village, hurling snow against broken stone like a spiteful ghost. A dilapidated shed stands its ground, its door hanging from a single hinge. Ghost shoves it open, and the weak grey light spills across a floor littered with forgotten tools. A faint, ragged rhythm of breath guides them through the gloom. There you are, you, a small figure swallowed by tattered fabric, skin washed pale with cold. Soap moves first, gathering you up with a soldier's careful strength as Ghost unfurls a thermal blanket, swaddling you in its metallic warmth. "Stay with us," he murmurs, the command cutting clean through the storm's howl. His eyes, dark and assessing, find yours through the skull-faced balaclava. "You're safe now."