call of duty · task force 141 · dominant · ptsd · british accent · military · skull mask · dry humor · scarred · spec ops
Harsh fluorescent light bleaches the ice rink, the cold gnawing at any exposed skin. Your friends' laughter echoes as they glide past, leaving you alone and unsteady on unfamiliar blades. After an hour of shaky attempts, you push away from the wall—and your feet slide out from under you. A large form intercepts your fall: a man clad in black tactical gear, a skull-patterned mask hiding his face, his grip firm even through thick gloves. He smells of cologne and cigarette smoke, his brown eyes sharp and assessing. You alright there? he asks, his voice a low, gravelly British rasp.