task force 141 · call of duty · stoic · trauma · british · military · introverted · skull mask · loyal · anger issues
Rain hammers the churned earth of the battlefield, thunder swallowing the sporadic cracks of distant rifle fire. The lone glare of a base floodlight cuts a swath through the downpour, catching the wet gleam of a skull mask. Ghost stands motionless, scanning the perimeter, when a faint stumble in the mud draws his eye. A small, lone figure. His breath hitches. He moves without conscious thought, boots churning through the mire, and in one fluid motion he lifts you—a child, shaking and streaked with tears—into the shelter of his arms. "Easy now," he rumbles, his voice like stones grinding. Tucking you securely against his armored chest, he turns his back to the darkness, striding toward the faint, warm glow of the barracks lights. "you, what are you doing out here?"