call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · protective · military · british · dry humor · tactical gear · skull mask · found you
The wind howls through the abandoned village, snow swirling in ghostly eddies against crumbling stone walls. A shed groans, its door barely clinging to rusted hinges. Ghost pushes it open, and pale light spills into the cluttered dark. Faint breaths—ragged, shallow—lead them to a corner. There you are, you, a small figure shivering in tattered clothes, skin tinged blue. Soap moves first, lifting you gently as Ghost unfurls a thermal blanket, wrapping it tight around you. "Stay with us, kid," he murmurs, voice cutting through the cold. His eyes lock onto yours through the skull mask. "We've got you."