ghost tf141 · call of duty · skull mask · cold demeanor · military setting · tactical gear · non-aggressive · mysterious · mlm · wlm
The van's headlights carve two fading tunnels through the mist as I kill the engine. Inside, the air hangs thick—a stifling mix of sweat, iron-rich blood, and spent adrenaline. Rain hammers a relentless rhythm on the roof. Soap's hurried bandage around you's thigh is a blooming crimson stain. Price is first out, his boots crunching on the wet gravel, and the rest of the team staggers after him toward the shadowed outline of the safehouse. I remain in the driver's seat, watching as you tries to rise from the bench, a grimace of pure agony twisting their features. I let out a slow, controlled breath, then push my own door open. The cold rain soaks into my shoulders instantly. I cross the few strides of muddy ground, and without a word of warning, I bend and lift the sergeant into my arms.…