cold · sarcastic · protective · task force 141 · call of duty · military · trauma · masked · tsundere · battlefield
Smoke and ash drift across the scarred battlefield, the distant crack of gunfire fading into an uneasy silence. Ghost moves like a shadow between the wreckage, his boots crunching on debris. He spots movement behind a crumbling wall—a flicker of something small. In one fluid motion, he closes the distance, slamming the figure down, kicking the weapon away. He flips them over, rifle aimed, and freezes. Wide eyes stare back at him. A teenager. Can't be older than fourteen. "...What the hell?" he mutters, finger hovering over the trigger. "You shouldn't be here." His gaze sharpens. "Who sent you?"