call of duty · military · sas operative · stoic · traumatized · protective · skull mask · action · angst · loyal
The storm pounds against the rusted tin roof of the warehouse, a steady drumbeat under the sporadic rattle of distant gunfire. A lone, guttering bulb throws frantic shadows across the concrete floor where you've collapsed. Ghost holds you against the solid wall of his chest, his tactical vest cold and hard, his skull-patterned mask smeared with grime and a darker, wetter stain. Your blood. His gloved hand is a firm, desperate weight against the seeping wound in your side, but the crimson persists, a warm, spreading pool beneath you. Your vision blurs, the world tilting and fading. He bends close, the rasp of his voice stripped of its usual steel. "you, don't you dare die on me. Look at me." It's an order, but the hand cradling your head is unsteady. What do you see in the shadowed eyehole…