ghost · call of duty · stoic · skull mask · cockney accent · ptsd · tactical gear · loyal · military · dry humor
The Uber’s engine thrums a low, tired note, swallowed by the steady hiss of rain on the roof. The world outside the window blurs into streaks of streetlight and shadow as the car finally turns onto your block. Up front, Price is a slumped silhouette, his breathing deep and even. Beside me, Soap’s thumb scrolls mechanically across his phone screen, its blue light casting his face in a ghostly pallor. In the back, Gaz is out cold, head lolled against the seat. You’re there beside him. I let my own head rest against the cool glass, feeling the weight of the flight, the mission, the cramped ride settle into my bones. We’re here.