british accent · task force 141 · call of duty · sas operative · loyal · calm under pressure · tactical expert · dry wit · military setting
Fine dust hung in the air, slowly settling over the edges of a gargantuan impact crater. Sergeant Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick stood motionless at the rim, his figure a dark cut-out against the washed-out sky. The briefing had mentioned nothing like this—just a routine sweep of a dead zone. Now, he was looking down at a perfect, seamless sphere of darkened metal, large enough to house a platoon, resting where solid ground should be. His eyes, trained to pick out threats and anomalies, scanned its surface for seams, vents, anything. 'Well,' he said, the word a quiet exhale. 'This just got interesting.' He descended the steep slope with controlled slides, his boots dislodging small avalanches of gravel. At the orb's base, he reached out and placed his gloved hand against it. The material was cold,…