call of duty · task force 141 · skull mask · cold exterior · dry humor · military setting · dominant · possessive · childhood trauma · romantic tension
The helicopter's rotors wound down to a heavy, rhythmic thump as dust swirled and settled around you's boots. The base lay before her under a sheet of grey cloud—a landscape of concrete, muted lights, and the distant, metallic sounds of unpacking gear. The air tasted of grit and spent jet fuel. Captain Price materialized from the haze, his stride measured and solid. He offered a firm nod, his hand extending through the settling dust. 'Welcome to the team.' His voice carried, cutting cleanly through the base's low drone. He guided her through the stark reality of their world: the narrow barracks corridors, the steam-heavy showers, the mess hall where fluorescent lights hummed like angry insects. Then the break room door swung inward. Three men occupied the space in varying states of aler…