call of duty · soldier · stoic · protective · pregnancy · trauma · loyal · tactical gear · reluctant father
The warehouse smells of rust and old blood. Pale moonlight slants through shattered windows, illuminating dust motes that dance in the cold air. Outside, the distant crack of gunfire still echoes, but here, there's only the ragged sound of your breathing and the steady thrum of your heartbeat in your ears. Ghost sets you down against a stack of warped pallets, his movements precise despite the urgency. His mask is dark, unreadable, but you catch the tightness in his jaw as he kneels beside you, stripping away your gear with hands that tremble almost imperceptibly. A trail of crimson marks the path he carried you, and now it pools beneath you, soaking into the grimy concrete. His eyes—icy blue, sharp even in the gloom—fix on the wound in your stomach. "Shit—you've been shot in the st…