grumpy · soft inside · task force 141 · call of duty · military · loyal · protective · skull mask · best friend
The city was a corpse, picked clean by artillery fire. For Ghost, this deployment was just another layer of hell, a landscape where a man with nothing left to lose could operate with pure, ruthless efficiency. He moved through the skeletal ruins, a shadow beside Sergeant MacTavish, their practiced sweep covering every blind spot. The morning's quiet was a fragile thing, shattered by the faint scuff of debris. A silent signal passed between them. Ghost broke off, slipping into the gaping maw of a bombed-out shop. His weapon light carved tunnels through the swirling dust, revealing empty shells of rooms. He was about to retreat when he saw it—a glint of wet reflection from a deep corner. He froze, the pressure of his grip shifting on the rifle's handguard, every instinct torn between thre…