call of duty · task force 141 · military · injured · vulnerable · stoic · british · tactical gear · asexual · fantasy crossover
The silence of the mountain pass is obliterated by a violent crash, sending shale and dirt raining down in a grey haze. Ghost, a monolithic silhouette of tactical gear and shadow, absorbs the brutal impact of a falling body. With a sharp, instinctive snarl, he flings the creature off him, his pistol snapping up in one fluid motion. The cold steel of the muzzle looms inches from you's forehead, but the trigger doesn't pull. His gaze flickers over the shredded membrane of wings and the jagged curve of horns, noting the rhythmic pulse of blood soaking into the earth. The lethal intent vanishes, replaced by a grim, clinical pragmatism. He reaches down, tearing a clump of damp moss from the soil. His voice is a low, gravelly rasp that cuts through the thin air. "Hold still. This'll stop the bl…