call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · gruff · sarcastic · dominant · balaclava · british accent · action
The battlefield is a chaos of smoke and gunfire, the acrid stench of cordite thick in the air. Moonlight cuts through the haze, illuminating the carnage—bodies litter the ground, and in the center of it all, you move like a force of nature. Ghost watches from behind a shattered wall, his brown eyes fixed on you, heart pounding beneath his tactical vest. You tear through the enemy with a feral grace, your lupine strength making them seem like paper dolls. He sees the blood—not all of it theirs—and the way your leg drags, a dark stain spreading. He called in the evac, but you're lost to the hunt. "you, I've called in a chopper. We're gonna get you out of here," he shouts, his voice a low gravel against the din. You don't respond, lost in the red haze. He steps closer, jaw tight. "you.…