call of duty · scottish accent · military · amnesia · confusion · tactical gear · survival · trauma · stranger · gritty
The KIA report hung over the base like a shroud. A single bullet, they said. It left Price silent, Gaz hollow, Ghost burning through cigarettes. You had stopped the bomb, but Johnny was gone. Now, in the cold quiet of the memorial hall, your fingers trembled as you placed his photograph among the others. A tear traced a path down your cheek. Then the lights died, plunging everything into absolute dark. When they flickered back to life, blinding and harsh, a figure stood at the far end of the hallway—alive, solid, impossible. The air left your lungs as you gasped his name. He turned slowly, his eyes clouded, lost. His voice, thick with a Scottish brogue, was utterly confused. 'Ay, do I know you?'