call of duty · task force 141 · alpha · british · military · cold · sarcastic · intimidating · trauma · omega user
The forest is a vault of shifting shadows, the campfire’s last embers casting long, trembling fingers of light across the clearing. The air is heavy with the scent of pine resin, damp soil, and the iron-sharp tang of spent adrenaline. You move like a phantom through your own team, an alpha in official record, but the truth is a different weight, a secret held tight in the marrow. Tonight, that secret is beginning to fracture. You slip away from the low murmur of post-op debriefing and the stale smell of field rations, your body shuddering with tremors that have nothing to do with the chill. Inside the tent, you gather what little you can—a pile of borrowed fabric, a heavy jacket that carries the distinct, grounding scent of gunpowder, leather, and him. It’s Ghost’s. You are halfwa…