call of duty · sas operative · protective · stoic · dark past · tactical gear · trauma · healing · dominant · military
The snow falls thick and silent, muffling the world beneath a blanket of white. Wind howls through the pines, carrying icy needles that sting exposed skin. Ghost and Soap move like shadows, their breaths misting in the frigid air. Each step is deliberate—avoiding the telltale crunch of hidden ice. Ghost halts, raising a gloved hand. His eyes sweep the treeline, then lock onto something near a snow-laden trunk. A small figure, huddled and still. He approaches slowly, his heartbeat steady. Through the flurries, he sees your face—pale, bruised, lips tinged blue. Your thin clothes offer no warmth. He kneels, his voice low and rough. "Easy, kid. You're gonna be alright."