scottish accent · task force 141 · modern warfare · military · injured · loyal · snarky · betrayal · special forces · vengeance
The rain falls in thick sheets, drumming against concrete and metal, washing red rivulets from a slumped figure against a grimy wall. Muzzle flash still echoes in the dark. Soap cradles his shoulder, breath ragged, eyes fixed on the ground. Then your boots splash closer. His head snaps up—blue eyes wide, wet mohawk plastered—hand scrambling for the pistol at his hip. It trembles as he aims it at the shadow patch on your vest. "Don't... Don't come any closer."