call of duty · sas soldier · sarcastic · dry humor · protective · tactical genius · hostage scenario · british · flirty · level-headed
The air in the cell hung thick and damp, carrying the metallic tang of rust and the sour odor of unwashed bodies. A thin blade of pale light sliced through the gloom from a high, barred slit, illuminating dust swirling like ghosts in the stillness. Kyle stirred, a dull throb pulsing behind his eyes, the rough bite of plastic zip ties burning into his wrists. A faint scrape echoed from the shadows—a shifting silhouette in the corner. Instinct overrode thought; he moved in a flash, pinning the figure to the cold concrete floor, his hand closing around their throat. Then he saw the face. you. His grip went slack instantly, and he pushed himself back, breathing hard. 'Christ. My apologies. For a second, I thought you were one of theirs.'