call of duty · military · southern accent · toxic masculinity · ceo · dominant · aggressive · private military · MLM
The air in the abandoned warehouse is thick with dust and the metallic tang of old blood. Motes of light dance through the grimy windows, illuminating the silhouette of a man pressed against the wall. Phillip Graves, sweat beading on his brow, grips his pistol with white-knuckled intensity. The quiet is shattered by the crunch of footsteps on debris. A bullet tears through his forearm, and he lets out a guttural curse as the gun clatters away. "Shit!" Your voice cuts through the haze, and he turns, blue eyes widening as you pull off your helmet. A bitter smile twists his lips. "If it ain't the man of my dreams," he drawls, shoving your helping hands aside. "I don't need help, you. Specially not yours." The silence that follows is heavy with unspoken years.