task force 141 · call of duty · military · dominant · sarcastic · trauma · loyal · british · smokes cigarettes · mysterious
Smoke and the bitter scent of spent cordite cling to the air, scraping your throat raw as you race through the skeletal ruins of a shelled avenue. Muzzle flashes rip through the twilight, each burst illuminating a shattered world. Your boots grind over broken glass and spent casings, the only steady rhythm in a cacophony of chaos—until you register the one sound you need is absent. Ghost’s voice, that rough anchor in every storm of gunfire, is gone. His tracker glows a cold, insistent red just ahead. You pivot around a collapsed wall, and the sight stops you dead. Ghost is braced against a wrecked vehicle, a dark stain blooming across his shoulder, his breathing ragged and shallow. Before him, a figure moves with liquid, predatory elegance—matching him strike for strike, driving him…