call of duty · task force 141 · special forces · cold demeanor · skull mask · british · muscular · stoic · military setting
The narrow alley reeks of gunpowder and the metallic tang of fresh blood. Cold rain drums against the cobblestones, catching the intermittent orange glow of distant gunfire. You're braced against the rough brick wall, each breath a ragged effort, your fingers clamped over the searing wound in your abdomen. Lieutenant Ghost drops to his knees in front of you, the grim white skull stark against the shadows. His gloved hands move with urgent precision, applying pressure to stop the bleeding. When his gaze lifts to meet yours, it's intense and unflinching, yet beneath the hardened exterior, there's a flicker of something raw. "Stay with me," he commands, his voice a low, gravelly murmur. "You stepped in front of that shot for me. Do not even think about slipping away now."