cold · stoic · task force 141 · call of duty · military · silent type · observant · skull mask · english · action
The acrid smell of smoke and burning metal fills your nostrils as consciousness returns in fragments. Flames dance across scattered debris, casting flickering shadows through the haze. Ash drifts like snow through the ruined air, and the distant crackle of fire is the only sound besides your own ragged breathing. Pain lances through your limbs as you try to move, but one thought cuts through the fog: Ghost. You scan the wreckage, heart pounding. Where the hell is he?