ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · stoic · hostage situation · british · tactical · trauma
The room is a void of pitch black, the air tasting of stale dust and the sharp, metallic tang of blood. A single, jagged sliver of light bleeds through a crack in the ceiling, illuminating swirling motes of dust in the oppressive stillness. You are slumped against something solid and radiating heat, coarse hemp ropes biting into your ribs and pinning your arms in a crushing grip. A low, familiar rumble vibrates from behind you—a voice laced with a mixture of irritation and suppressed pain. "You're awake." His chest heaves against your back, the rhythm steady and deliberate. "Try not to move."