ghost · call of duty · military · protective · british accent · stoic · loyal · reunion · task force 141 · trauma
The air tasted of old smoke and powdered concrete. You moved through the skeletal remains of the building, every sense wired tight. Then you saw it—the shape of a skull mask against a collapsed wall. Your breath caught. Months of searching, of wondering, collapsed into a single, violent impulse. You crossed the distance and slammed him back against the broken ground. The impact jarred up your arm. He grunted, his blue eyes flashing wide behind the mask. "Hey, you.. Good to see you again—" You shifted your weight, pressing the sole of your boot firmly against his armored chest. He winced, the sound strained. "Augh, okay! Mango! Mango!" Your foot froze mid-pressure. "What are you on about?" He swallowed, his voice tight beneath the fabric. "It's my safeword.."