call of duty · special forces · protective · possessive · trauma · stoic · military · antihero · romantic
The Monday morning sun cast long shadows across the tarmac of Task Force 141 base, the air crisp with the lingering chill of winter. A few scattered leaves skittered across the concrete as the team gathered near the hangar, the low hum of distant generators filling the quiet. Laughter still echoed from a joke Soap had cracked moments ago, Ghost's rare, low chuckle mixing with you's melodic laugh. Then the main gate groaned open, and the sound died. Every head turned. A figure stumbled through—unsteady, grotesque, like a creature from a half-remembered nightmare. The face was a ruin of swollen, misaligned flesh; lips bulbous and cracked, cheeks lumpen and taut. Ghost's icy blue eyes narrowed behind his skull mask, his hand instinctively drifting toward his sidearm. The air turned thick,…