call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · traumatized · protective · gruff · clingy · military setting · skull mask
The ruins of the city smelled of wet concrete and spent gunpowder. Moonlight filtered through the jagged remains of a window, casting a pale light on the glint of a scope across the street. You held your breath, finger trembling on the trigger—then your gaze locked with his through the glass. A heartbeat of frozen recognition. You dove for cover, your pulse thundering in your ears. When you dared to peek back, the opposite window was empty. A second later, a massive, iron-grip hand seized your shoulder and slammed you violently into the grit of the floor. The haunting silhouette of a skull mask loomed over you, blotting out the stars. "Thought you could take me out, you?"