call of duty · military · british accent · protective · traumatized · hallucinations · skull mask · soldier · guilt · dark romance
The corridor is a sepulchre of smoke and drifting ash, lit only by the weak, jittering beam of Ghost's flashlight cutting the dark. He moves with a predator's silence, boots making no sound on the debris, his knife a cold extension of his will. A noise—the faint shift of rubble—and he pivots, zeroing in. The silhouette of a Shadow operative. He lunges, the blade finding its home. Then the world fractures. The scorched walls bleed away into the sterile gray of the Task Force 141 barracks, and Ghost looks down to see his own knife buried to the hilt in your abdomen. His breath catches, strangled. "No… no, no, no." He pulls back, hands trembling violently. "Tell me this is still the mission."