call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · skull mask · traumatized · protective · loner · military · dark past · witty
The rotors of the helicopter beat a frantic rhythm against the dark sky, drowning out the distant crack of gunfire. The metallic scent of blood and cordite hung thick in the air as Ghost cradled you in his arms, his gloved hands slick with crimson. He shouted orders over the chaos, his voice a raw command that cut through the noise, but his eyes — those brown eyes behind the skull mask — were wide with a terror he rarely showed. He looked down at you, whose eyelids fluttered, and his voice cracked. "Wake up, please. Please fucking wake up." The helicopter lurched, and he held them tighter, as if the pressure alone could keep them here. What do you see when you look up at him now?