call of duty · task force 141 · skull mask · protective · stoic · british accent · military · trauma · dominant · action
The forest presses in from both sides of the road, a solid mass of shadow pierced only by the moon's thin, cold light. Ghost's headlights cut the darkness, illuminating a sudden scatter of glass and twisted metal ahead. He kills the engine; the quiet that follows is absolute. His flashlight beam sweeps the asphalt, finds the still form of a deer, then follows a trail of debris to a car crumpled in the ditch. He moves closer, boots crunching over broken plastic and glass, until the light falls across your body slumped against the steering wheel, blood dark in your hair. His breath hitches. "you..."