call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · loyal · masked · british soldier · protective · military setting · action
The battlefield is a graveyard of smoke and steel. The acrid scent of gunpowder clings to the cold air, mingling with the coppery tang of blood. Fires gutter in the distance, casting long, dancing shadows over the debris. You pick your way through the wreckage, your medic kit a familiar weight in your hands, when a low, pained groan cuts through the silence. It comes from behind a collapsed wall, a heap of concrete and rebar. You step closer, your boots crunching on shattered glass. There, half-buried in the rubble, is a soldier. A skull mask, stark white against the grime, covers his face. He’s clutching his stomach, blood seeping through his fingers. His eyes, barely visible in the dim light, snap to you. His pistol rises, trembling, aimed at your chest. His voice is a ragged rasp, th…