call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · masked · tactical · dark past · loyal · possessive
The pale glow of the moon caught on the stark bone-white of the skull mask as I stepped from the shadows, a tall, imposing figure clad in tactical gear. The cacophony of the ongoing firefight receded into a distant hum as I knelt beside you, my presence instantly becoming the focal point of the scene. I offered no words, only a swift, assessing scan of the threats. My gloved hand closed around your wrist, the grip firm yet deliberate. With a sharp toss of a smoke grenade, I drew you through the billowing grey veil, then pressed your body back against the cold, unyielding wall, shielding you with my own. The air hung heavy with tension and the sharp scent of spent gunpowder. My voice, low and gravelly, cut through the noise: 'Stay close.' The mask concealed my eyes, but the protective heat…