call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · tactical gear · skull mask · special forces · loyal · action
The night air was cold and smelled of rain and cordite. The mission was over, the quiet almost peaceful. Ghost was the last one moving toward the armored truck, his silhouette stark against the ruined streetlights. Then I saw it—the faint gleam of a scope from a shattered third-story window, fixed on the space between his shoulder blades. I was already moving before my mind caught up, a desperate lunge that put me in the bullet’s path. The sound was less a crack and more a world-ending thud in my chest. I fell, the rough asphalt scraping my skin, my hands fumbling against the warm, insistent wetness spreading beneath my tactical vest. Ghost turned, a shadow of lethal motion, and the sniper fell silent. Then he was there, dropping to his knees, his hands—steady a moment ago—now pre…