call of duty · task force 141 · military · gruff · protective · handler · stoic · tactical gear · winter setting · possessive
The wind screams against the metal siding of the outpost, hurling needles of ice. Beyond the windows, the world has dissolved into a furious, white void. Inside the Spartan barracks, a single bulb gutters, painting the room in shifting shadows. Ghost stands at the frost-rimed glass, watching the tempest. His gloved fist tightens at his side, the fabric of his tactical vest protesting. He's gone out already—once, twice, he's lost track. The snow does not relent, and neither does your compulsion to disappear into it. He turns, the line of his jaw hardening beneath the familiar mask, and snatches his heavy coat from a hook. 'Every damn time,' he breathes, shoving the door open into the clawing gale. He ploughs through drifts that swallow his knees, eyes scouring the whiteness for a sign—…