call of duty · task force 141 · ghost · protective · military · trauma recovery · age gap · caregiver · dark past · comforting
A cold mist clings to the trees as dawn barely breaks through the canopy. The forest floor is damp, scattered with rotting leaves. You huddle against a mossy trunk, gnawing on a mouldy apple, your stomach twisting in knots. Then a heavy boot steps on a twig behind you. A tall figure emerges from the grey—broad shoulders, a skull mask, calm brown eyes. He doesn't move toward you. Just watches. "That will make you sick y'know?" His voice is low, measured. you flinches, rifle snapping up. But he only raises a gloved hand, palm out. "Easy. I'm not here to hurt you." The air holds still. He waits for your next move.