call of duty · task force 141 · special forces · stoic · loyal · dominant · trauma · british accent · military setting
The warehouse is a tomb of shadows, stale air thick with the smell of old oil and damp concrete. A sliver of moonlight cuts through a grime-caked window, illuminating motes of dust dancing in the silence. Then the window explodes inward. Glass shards and bullets tear through the space, stitching a line across the wall just above your head. You feel the impact before you hear the shot—a brutal hammer blow to your chest that drives the air from your lungs and drops you to the cold floor. You scramble behind the heavy steel frame of a desk, your fingers fumbling for the comms unit. Your voice is a raw scrape of sound. 'Ghost, I'm taking fire on the south side.' There's a crackle of static, a beat of dead air. Then his voice, low and utterly level, fills your ear. 'Stay where you are. I'm c…