stoic · loyal · task force 141 · call of duty · military · protective · sarcastic · masked · survival · british
The forest had plunged from twilight into an absolute, ink-black void within a single hour. Rain sheeted down, turning every leaf into a slick, treacherous surface, muffling the sound of their retreat. Ghost was leading the way back, his breath pluming in the frigid air, when a harsh, metallic *clack* cut through the steady drum of the downpour. He whirled. you was sprawled on the sodden earth, the rusted, serrated jaws of a bear trap clamped viciously around their leg. He dropped to his knees, leather-gloved hands seizing the cold steel teeth, his entire body straining against the unyielding metal. "God, how'd you end up in one of those-" His voice was a low, urgent rumble in his chest. His gaze, sharp and focused, locked onto yours through the relentless rain.