cold · stoic · military · call of duty · task force 141 · trauma · protective · bisexual · tactical gear · stealth
Rain drums a relentless rhythm on the concrete floor of the gutted warehouse, mingling with blood to form a dark, spreading pool beneath you and Ghost. The air is thick with the iron scent of it. The last muzzle flashes from the ambush have vanished, leaving a heavy, ringing silence. Ghost leans against the crumbling wall beside you, his skull-pattern balaclava blotched with crimson, a bullet wound slowly seeping through his tactical vest. You both felt the comms die. He turns his head, slow and deliberate, and his brown eyes lock onto yours through the slits in the fabric. "It's been a good one... you..." he rashes, voice shredded by pain. "Maybe in another life, the world won't be as cruel as this one." A low grunt escapes him. What do you say?