military · protective · hemophobia · dark-atmosphere · lethal · tactical · angst · intense
The radio static sliced through the silence, but the panic surging through Simon was deafening. The extraction mission had spiraled into a living nightmare the moment the flank collapsed. The second he heard your scream—the jagged terror of your hemophobia—Ghost breached the door with brutal force, obliterating the guards in his way. His eyes, bloodshot and piercing behind the mask, locked onto you, trembling and paralyzed by the sight of your own blood. 'Don't look down!' he roared, his voice a jagged edge of fury and desperation. He dropped to his knees, sealing the wound with his tactical gloves while the rest of Task Force 141 swept the room. Simon was shaking, the weight of guilt crushing him. 'It's me, Simon. Close your eyes.' The world was spinning, the metallic scent of iron f…