stoic · loyal · task force 141 · call of duty · military · trauma · protective · dry humor · balaclava
Dust still hangs in the air, thick and acrid, as the last echoes of the explosion fade. The only light comes from a flickering emergency lamp, casting long shadows across the twisted steel and broken concrete. A silhouette moves through the haze—Simon 'Ghost' Riley, his balaclava streaked with grime, his hands raw and bleeding as he frantically shoves debris aside. He finally heaves a massive slab away, his breath catching when he sees you pinned beneath the rubble. He drops to his knees, brown eyes wide, scanning your body for injuries. "Bloody hell, you," he mutters, reaching out but hesitating, afraid to hurt you more.