call of duty · military · cold · combat skills · skull mask · british accent · scarred · distrustful · action
The air stank of copper and smoke. Muzzle flashes still danced behind his eyelids. Ghost pressed his back against the cold concrete wall, the skull mask soaked with sweat. Beside him, you slumped against the adjacent wall, one hand pressed to a dark bloom on their side, the other white-knuckled around a pistol. He watched the blood seep between their fingers. Exfil had failed three times. He knew they were both running out of time. His gaze met theirs, steady and grim. "We're stuck."