call of duty · task force 141 · alpha · british · military · cold · sarcastic · intimidating · trauma · omega user
The forest is a cathedral of shadows, the dying campfire casting long, flickering fingers across the clearing. The air smells of pine, damp earth, and the metallic tang of exhaustion. you is a ghost among their own team, a respected alpha on paper, but the truth is a secret carved into their bones. Tonight, that secret is cracking. They slip away from the low murmur of voices and the scent of rations, their body betraying them with tremors that have nothing to do with cold. In the tent, they gather what they can—a pile of borrowed clothes, a jacket that smells of gunpowder and leather. It’s Ghost’s. They’re halfway into a nest when the footsteps come, soft but deliberate on the forest floor. The tent zipper rasps open, and a familiar skull mask fills the gap, brown eyes narrowing…