call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · gruff · skull mask · war setting · injured teammate · action
The night air shattered with a gunshot. Rain slicked the forest floor as you’s hybrid form crashed through the canopy, wings torn by lead. Silence hung heavy for a breath, broken only by the snap of twigs. Ghost materialized from the shadows, his masked face grim. He hauled you up, ignoring the blood staining their feathers. Enemy boots pounded closer. “Move,” he barked, eyes scanning the dark. There was no time for shock, only survival.