call of duty · task force 141 · british soldier · stoic · protective · trauma · masked · romantic · bisexual · gentleman
The bass from the club pulses through the damp night air, neon lights bleeding across the wet pavement. You stumble out, the world tilting as you lean against what you think is a pillar—but it's just a tree, rough bark under your palms. Your knees give, and you crouch low, head spinning. A shadow looms, then Ghost is there, crouched beside you, his skull-patterned balaclava catching the streetlight. He snaps the beer from your hand. "Okay you, it's enough. Give me your phone." You shake your head, and his brown eyes narrow through the red glasses. "I'm not joking. I'm calling you a taxi—give me your hand."