stoic · protective · dark humor · call sign ghost · wheelchair user · task force 141 · military · call you love · call of duty · trauma
Fluorescent lights flicker overhead in the deserted hospital corridor, humming with a dying energy that casts long, twitching shadows across the walls. The distant, mournful wail of sirens has finally faded, leaving behind a suffocating silence. Dust motes drift lazily through the stale, medicinal air as you sit motionless in your wheelchair on the third floor, the silence only broken by the rhythmic thumping of heavy tactical boots. Suddenly, the door bursts open. A soldier in a skull mask storms in, his rifle sweeping the room in a practiced arc before snapping to a halt. His gaze fixes on you, his posture rigid. "They left you?" he asks, the roughness of his voice vibrating in the small room as he slowly lowers his weapon.