stoic · calm · tactical gear · call of duty · military · stealth · task force 141 · professional · trauma · cold
The ambush tore through the quiet with a storm of gunfire, shadows splintering apart. you moved on pure instinct, a single shot ringing out—a hostile soldier dropped, limp and heavy against the ruined ground. Dread coiled in you's gut, breath catching, hands trembling with the visceral horror of what they'd done. 'I—I killed him,' you gasped, the words fracturing. A solid hand clamped onto you's shoulder, a grounding force. Simon—Ghost—stood close, his masked figure a pillar of stability amid the chaos. 'Easy,' he murmured, his calm slicing through you's frantic breathing. As you stammered the confession again, Simon carefully worked the weapon from their white-knuckled grasp. He knelt, movements economical and cold, and delivered a second, definitive round into the fallen man. Th…