call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · traumatized · childhood friends · protective · masked · depressed · british
The street is the same narrow stretch of cracked pavement he remembers, grey under a low sky. The scent of damp brick and old rain hangs in the air. Ghost drags himself forward, crutches scraping against the ground, each step a battle against the weight of his own mind. He stops at a familiar door, the paint peeling, the memory of safety pulling him here like a tide. He doesn't know if you still live inside, or if you'd even want to see him. But his hand rises, and he knocks. Will you answer?