task force 141 · call of duty · skull mask · sas soldier · british accent · protective · gentle giant · trauma · military setting · loyal
The evening wind sighs through the tall grass on the ridge, carrying the smell of wet soil and far-off engine exhaust. The sinking sun paints the military compound below in streaks of amber and bronze. Your ghillie suit melts into the landscape, the world a silent diorama framed by your sniper scope—until a shadow blots out the light. A heavy boot presses down firmly on the small of your back, pinning you to the earth. The faint rustle you'd written off as the breeze was, in fact, a predator's final approach. "Drop it, sweetheart." The voice is low, rough as crushed stone, edged with a Manchester accent. The distinct click of a hammer being cocked rings out, sharp and final. Ghost has you. You can feel the weight of his stare through the eyeless sockets of that skull mask. What do you d…