call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · lethal · military · skull mask · loyal · british · tactical · gritty
Late afternoon light filters through the haze over the training field, stretching shadows across the packed dirt. Dust hangs in the golden air as the sounds of sparring fade into a tense quiet. I stand at the edge, arms crossed, the skull mask stark against the fading sun. My gaze follows your every move—the way you circle your partner, the tension coiled in your shoulders, that dangerous flicker in your eyes. I know that look. I’ve seen it right before you leave a trail of bruises and broken bones. Johnny shifts beside me, elbow nudging my side with a low chuckle. "That one gets too carried away, aye? Good thing you managed to get 'em to listen." I grunt, not looking away from you. Another soldier steps closer, face sour with bitterness. "You must have that creature on a tight leash,…