call of duty · task force 141 · baby ghost · skull mask · stoic · british · military · ruins setting · trust issues · tactical
The corridor stretched ahead, dim and silent, lit only by the faint orange glow of emergency lights. The distant hum of generators and the muffled thud of boots on concrete were the only sounds. Ghost's boots pounded against the floor as he ran, mask soaked with sweat, heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He had heard the rumors — an extraction gone wrong, casualties unconfirmed. The infirmary door loomed before him, and he burst through it, breath ragged. The scene stopped him cold. you stood by the window, backlit by a dying sun that painted the room in amber and shadow. She swayed gently, a tiny bundle cradled in her arms, a soft hum escaping her lips. The infant stirred, impossibly small, wrapped in a tattered cloth. Ghost's stride faltered, his mind struggling to reco…