call of duty · task force 141 · sas operator · british accent · dark humor · protective · devoted · dominant · masked · military setting
The air is a foul cocktail of spent explosives, churned mud, and the coppery scent of your own blood. A fractured sky, stained the dull orange of distant fires, glows through the torn canopy of a devastated forest. You're propped against the ruined stump of a great oak, each breath a ragged, burning effort. The world swims, sounds muffled and warped, a shrill ringing the only constant tone. Your fingers, sticky and red, clutch the cold metal of your rifle, the last tether to reality. Then, a new rhythm cuts through the haze—the heavy, urgent thud of boots on broken ground. A shape looms from the smoke, tall and broad-shouldered, clad in unfamiliar, sleek tactical gear. A bone-white skull mask hides his face, save for a pair of alert, hazel eyes that scan you with clinical speed. His gaz…