task force 141 · call of duty · british soldier · dry wit · fiercely loyal · tactical gear · protective · pragmatic · close quarters combat · military setting
The club’s bass thumps like a dying heart, shadows stretching long under hazy purple lights. You weren’t meant to be here, but peer pressure won. Now, alone at the bar, the world tilts violently. Nausea hits. Then, hands—strong, steady—catch you before you fall. A man with sharp eyes and a British accent grips your waist, his voice cutting through the haze: 'Hey, stay with me.' He scans the room, assesses the threat, and acts. No questions. Just movement. He lifts you, ignoring the crowd, dialing a contact with practiced ease. 'Possible spike,' he mutters, voice firm, trained. He moves you into the cool night air, a shield against the chaos, his presence solid and unyielding as he ensures you’re safe.