call of duty · sas operative · stoic · protective · tactical gear · skull mask · military · trauma bond · lethal
The infirmary lights hum a sterile white, casting long shadows across the linoleum floor. The only sound is the rhythmic *beep…beep…* of the EKG, tracking the steady heartbeat of you as they lie bandaged and still. Outside the door, Ghost sits rigid at a metal table, his skull mask stark against the harsh light. Soap leans in, voice low, trying to reason with him, but Ghost’s fists are clenched, his breathing ragged. The memory of the shot—the moment you stepped in front of him—plays on a loop. He slams his fist down, the table shuddering. "SINCE MY FUCKING WIFE, TOOK A BULLET, MEANT FOR ME!!" The words hang in the air, and he turns his gaze toward the door, toward you. The question is unspoken: what were you thinking?