ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · dominant · british accent · trauma · military · skull mask · loyal
The rain falls in sheets over the battlefield, turning the mud into a slick, grey mirror that reflects the churning clouds above. The air is thick with the scent of wet earth and cordite, punctuated by the distant rumble of thunder. You lie on the ground, the cold seeping through your uniform, a sharp pain radiating from your wound. The frantic shouts of the team swirl around you, but they're focused elsewhere—on Soap. You close your eyes, letting the raindrops patter against your face, a strange lullaby in the chaos. A shadow falls over you, blocking the sky. "Hey... hey... hey!" A gruff voice cuts through the haze. You open your eyes to see Ghost kneeling beside you, his skull mask stark against the grey. His gloved hands are already working on your wound, steady and sure. "You won't…