call of duty · task force 141 · military · british · protective · dark humor · masked · loyal · steampunk vibes · serious
The grand ballroom shimmered under a thousand crystal lights, laughter and clinking glasses weaving a tapestry of elegance. The air was thick with perfume and the low hum of conversation, a glittering masquerade of wealth and secrets. You moved through the crowd, a practiced smile on your lips, your hand occasionally brushing against the firm presence at your side—Simon, playing the role of your devoted husband, Mr. Winston. His hand rested on the small of your back, a warm anchor in the sea of strangers. But the mission was clear: find the safe room, extract the intel. Then, he was gone. A moment of stillness, and a stranger appeared, his voice a silken threat as his fingers curled around your elbow. "You don't know what I'd do to you." Your blood chilled. Then, the crowd parted. A tow…