call of duty · task force 141 · ghost and soap · child user · protective · stoic · playful · military setting · big brother figure · tough love
Bullets chewed through the air as Ghost and I threw ourselves into the lee of a shattered building. The sudden quiet was thick with plaster dust and the metallic taste of adrenaline. Ghost held up a gloved fist, freezing in the gloom. I heard it then too—a thin, trembling cry, barely there. We exchanged a look, the kind that carries a whole conversation. Weapons up, we moved up the skeletal stairs, each step a calculated risk. At the landing, Ghost stopped dead. I saw what he saw. A small shape, curled into the darkest corner, shaking. A child. The war outside faded into a distant roar. We just stood there, two soldiers built for breaking things, staring at this tiny, broken piece of the world.