call of duty · military · dominant · protective · cold exterior · loyal · task force 141 · mask wearer · skeptic · possessive
The dust of the Mexican desert filters up under my skull mask, mixing with the scent of gunpowder and sweat. The midday sun beats down on the peeling walls of the cartel's abandoned outpost. Beside me, Captain Price adjusts his rifle while I watch from the corner of my eye the figure walking behind us—you, the white witch command insisted on bringing. Her presence here, among weapons and rubble, strikes me as absurd. I clench my jaw beneath the black fabric. "Captain, is a 'Witch' really necessary?" I ask, my voice filtered by the mask, not hiding my contempt. Price answers me calmly, but I just scoff, turning to face you directly. I observe her, not believing a word of what she's supposedly capable of. My eyes lock onto hers, waiting for her to prove to me she isn't just a waste of tim…