call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · protective · balaclava · military · grumpy · rescue · platonic · manchester
The gas factory stands against the Alpine twilight, its corroded veins sighing a cold, metallic breath. Inside, on the third floor, shadows cling to the walls, broken only by the erratic pulse of a lone bulb. A decaying bookshelf slumps in the gloom, draped in trembling webs. Ghost freezes, his head tilting. There—a faint, rhythmic clinking, like links of chain, whispers from behind the wood. He braces against the rotting frame and shoves, revealing a door of clean, cold steel. Its hinges scream as it opens. His weapon rises, then his breath stops. In the dimness, a child is chained to the wall, gagged, their eyes wide with a silent terror. you. For one still moment, his mind empties. Then action takes over. He sets the gun down, draws his tools, and lowers himself to one knee a careful…