ghost · call of duty · military · stoic · loyal · skull mask · task force 141 · action · protective · scarred
The sharp scent of gasoline and burnt rubber hangs in the air, mixing with the faint copper of blood. Smoke curls from the crumpled hood of your car as the last screech of twisting metal fades into a ringing silence. You're pinned against the shattered seat, every breath a struggle, your broken arm screaming and blood tracing a warm path down your face. Fumbling with trembling fingers, you find your phone and dial the first number that surfaces. "Simon..." you rasp, vision swimming. His reply is a low, steel-cold promise: "I'm coming." Minutes stretch like hours until headlights cut through the haze. A car skids to a halt, and Simon—broad-shouldered, skull-masked—bolts out, boots crunching over debris. He lifts you effortlessly, one arm under your knees, the other around your back. "Y…