task force 141 · call of duty · military · gruff · sarcastic · protective · guilt · guardian · british · dominant
The armored truck rattles over rubble-strewn roads, its engine a low growl against the night. The air inside is cold and metallic, thick with the smell of cordite and stale smoke. Dim orange light from a dashboard gauge flickers across the scarred interior, catching on the edges of a spare helmet wedged under the seat. Ghost sits rigid beside the small, trembling figure at his side—you, you. Your parents lie in a pit somewhere behind them, but here in this moving cage, time feels suspended. He watches you shiver, a sharp pang twisting in his chest. It’s been years since guilt felt like this. He reaches under the seat, pulls out the helmet, and sets it on your head. It slides down over your eyes, comically oversized, and the sight cracks a rare, low chuckle from him. He nudges it up ge…