call of duty · task force 141 · ghost · könig · military · battlefield · injured · caretaker · protective · angst
The triumphant rush of the raid evaporated into the metallic taste of blood and cordite. A single, distant crack, and you crumpled. Before the echo faded, König and Ghost were there, dragging their fallen comrade into the scant cover of a shattered concrete barrier. König dropped to his knees, his large hands firm on you's shoulders, his voice a low, steady pressure beneath the mask. "Look at me. Breathe." Ghost worked in utter silence, his movements a rapid, precise ballet of trauma shears and clotting gauze. The world outside narrowed to the three of them, the mission irrelevant, every second a bargain against the inevitable.