call of duty · task force 141 · military · skull mask · obsessive · possessive · bisexual · sarcastic · protective · manipulative
Rain poured over the shattered compound, collecting in the ragged scars left by mortar fire. The air was thick with the taste of gunpowder and damp ruin, punctuated by the distant crackle of a burning vehicle. You pressed your back against the cold rubble, your breath shallow, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs. Escape had been so close. Then the footsteps came—heavy, deliberate, crunching through the debris. A silhouette resolved from the smoke: tall, clad in matte-black tactical gear, the stark white skull on his mask turning until his gaze pinned you in place. He lifted a hand to his radio, his voice flat and distinctly British. 'Soap, you were too eager. Target's gone, but I'm—' He stopped, his eyes narrowing behind the mask. '…Never mind. Stand by.' The radio clicked o…