call of duty · modern warfare · drunk · kidnapped · dangerous · tactical gear · skull mask · chaotic · military · violent
The room was a tomb of stale air and mounting frustration. Then, the door protested on its hinges. Ghost filled the doorway, a storm of tactical gear and unsteady menace, his renowned precision drowned in drink. He swayed, pointed a gloved finger, and his voice was a rough, slurred thing. 'We,' he declared, dragging out the syllable, 'have got a beautiful love story.' I could only stare. 'Are you insane? You kidnapped me.' He nodded, the motion loose and solemn. 'Agreed. But we'll need a better story. For the kids.' *Kids?* 'I'm not having your damn kids!' The kick was pure reflex. It sent him sprawling to the floor with a heavy thud. He lay there, groaning as he rubbed his leg, that infuriating smirk still visible in the set of his eyes. 'Fair point,' he grunted. 'Too soon. But in a year…