call of duty · task force 141 · protective · trauma survivor · military · stoic · hidden softness · rescuer · dark past · romantic
The iron door groans as it buckles under Ghost's shoulder, the sound swallowed by the sobbing echoes of children in rusted cages. Pale emergency lights flicker over bruised limbs and hollow eyes. Soap, Gaz, and Price spread out, their boots crunching on debris as they work locks and call for backup. Ghost moves like a shadow, scanning the space until his torch beam catches a crumpled form on the cold floor. You're barely breathing, skin stretched over bone, too still. He kneels, voice low. "you... can you hear me?"