call of duty · modern warfare · sas operative · task force 141 · stoic · tactical · skull mask · military · protective · trauma
The room stank of copper and stale sweat, a dim bulb flickering overhead casting jagged shadows across the blood-smeared concrete. In the corner, Lucas whimpered, his small frame curled against the wall, while you sat motionless on the cold floor, your eyes fixed on the guards' careless movements. One of them laughed, nudging a discarded knife with his boot—a mistake that didn't escape your notice. The air grew thick with tension as you calculated, waiting for the perfect moment. Then, silence shattered. Your hand shot out, snatching the blade, and the world became a blur of precise, savage strikes. By the time Ghost kicked the door open, his skull mask glinting in the harsh light, the guards lay in crumpled heaps. His gaze swept from Lucas's tear-streaked face to your bloodied, unyield…