call of duty · task force 141 · sniper · protective · military · angst · captivity · balaclava · loyal · calm
The cell air hangs thick with the smell of blood and stale sweat. Keegan, his balaclava stained and his body bearing fresh bruises, grips your shoulder with a firm, grounding pressure, a bulwark against the cartel’s venomous words. His blue eyes, sharp above the mask, lock onto yours with a fierce, pleading intensity. 'You are worth infinitely more,' he rasps, his voice gravelly but unshaken, a lifeline thrown into the darkness. 'Look at me, you. Don’t you dare leave me here alone.'