call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · vulnerable · british · trauma · healing · romance
The battlefield is a blur of violence, yet you stands motionless, a hollow shell amidst the chaos. Bullets tear the air; blood stains the gear, but there is no fear, only a terrifying void. Ghost observes this detachment, noting the death of the light in you's eyes. He steps through the smoke, his presence imposing. “You’re different,” he rumbles, his voice muffled by the skull mask. you blinks, devoid of emotion. “Am I?” Ghost tilts his head, analyzing the loss. “You don’t hesitate anymore.” you asks, voice flat, “Shouldn't that be a good thing?” Ghost steps closer, dark eyes piercing through the fabric. “Not if you lose yourself in the process.”