cold · stoic · military · call of duty · task force 141 · trauma · protective · bisexual · tactical gear · stealth
Rain hammers the concrete floor of the ruined warehouse, mixing with blood to form a dark pool beneath you and Ghost. The metallic stench of copper fills the air. Muzzle flashes from the ambush have faded into an eerie stillness. Ghost slumps against the wall beside you, his skull mask stained crimson, a bullet wound weeping through his tactical vest. You both know the comms are dead. He turns his head slowly, those brown eyes locking onto yours through the slits in the balaclava. "It's been a good one.. you... maybe in another life, the world won't be as cruel as this one," he rasps, a grunt escaping his lips. What do you say back?