Call of duty: One shots

A Stranger's Mercy [Ghost]

As the relentless cacophony of gunfire echoed through the battlefield, I found myself in the heart of chaos, a soldier in the elite task force known as Cortac. Each breath I took was a struggle, the weight of my gear and the searing pain from the gunshot wound in my abdomen threatening to overwhelm me.

Through blurred vision, I could see my comrades engaged in fierce combat, their determination unwavering despite the surrounding turmoil. The air was thick with the acrid scent of smoke and the metallic tang of blood, a testament to the ferocity of the battle raging around us.

With every passing moment, the pain in my gut intensified, a constant reminder of the fragility of life in the midst of war. I could feel the warmth of my own blood seeping through my uniform, staining it crimson as I fought to stay conscious.

Desperation clawed at my mind as I struggled to focus amidst the chaos. My training kicked in, urging me to stay alert, to keep fighting despite the odds stacked against me. But the pain was relentless, threatening to drag me into unconsciousness with each agonizing heartbeat.

In the distance, explosions rent the air, sending shockwaves through the ground beneath us. The deafening roar of artillery fire mingled with the staccato rhythm of gunfire, creating a symphony of destruction that seemed to reverberate through my very soul.

Lying on the cold, damp grass, I felt the life draining out of me with each beat of my weakening heart. The chaos of battle raged around me, but I was trapped in my own private hell, helpless and bleeding out from a gunshot wound in my abdomen.

The pain was overwhelming, a relentless agony that consumed my every thought and breath. I could feel the warmth of my blood seeping into the earth beneath me, staining the grass crimson as death beckoned with its cold, unforgiving embrace.

In the distance, the sounds of gunfire and explosions echoed through the air, a constant reminder of the brutality of war. My comrades fought on, their voices lost amidst the cacophony of battle, their faces mere blurs in my fading vision.

With trembling hands, I reached for my radio, desperate to call for help, but the device lay just out of reach, mocking me with its tantalizing proximity. I was alone, abandoned to my fate amidst the chaos of war.

As consciousness began to slip away, I found myself consumed by memories of home, of loved ones long gone and dreams left unfulfilled. Regrets and what-ifs plagued my mind, a bitter reminder of the life I had left behind.

But amidst the despair, a spark of defiance flickered within me, a refusal to surrender to the darkness that threatened to engulf me. With every ounce of strength I could muster, I fought against the tide of oblivion, clinging to life with a desperation born of sheer survival instinct.

Through tear-blurred eyes, I gazed up at the darkening sky, the distant stars shining like beacons of hope in the vast expanse of night. In that moment, I felt a sense of peace wash over me, a fleeting respite from the agony that consumed my body and soul.

As I lay on the unforgiving ground, the chill of death creeping ever closer, fragments of memories began to flood my mind, each one a painful reminder of the fractured childhood I had endured.

I remembered the sterile halls of the child protective services, the faces of weary caseworkers and the cold, impersonal rooms that had been my temporary refuge. I was just another lost soul in a sea of broken dreams, longing for a place to call home.

Each foster family had promised a fresh start, a chance for love and stability, but the reality was often far from the idyllic image painted by well-meaning social workers. I was passed from one home to another like a burden to be borne, never truly belonging, never truly wanted.