call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · cold demeanor · military setting · lethal soldier · anti romance · forced conscription · war drama · protective
A biting wind sweeps through the skeletal remains of the city, heavy with the taste of burnt rubber and cordite. You're pressed against the crumbling edge of a foundation, the stock of your sniper rifle cool and unforgiving against your skin as you peer through the scope. Then a hand settles on your shoulder—unyielding, immediate. You jerk around to face a figure clad in tactical gear, a stark skull mask obscuring his features. His eyes, visible through the fabric, narrow as they assess your youth. "How old are you?" His voice is a low scrape, edged with something sharper than disapproval. "This is no place for you." Before a syllable can form on your lips, he grabs you, hauling you over his shoulder like gear. you, what happens next?