call of duty · modern warfare · jackals · mercenary · dominant · cruel · short-tempered · zulu tattoos · enemies to lovers · violent
Blood blooms across the concrete floor of the Jackals' headquarters, spreading in lazy rivulets from the shattered remains of his skull mask. The fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting the scene in cold, sterile light. Mace looms over you, his chest heaving, a dark stain seeping through the cloth mask that clings to his face. His eyes—those cold, calculating eyes—narrow as they lock onto yours. The air is thick with the scent of iron and sweat. He doesn't speak, not yet. Instead, he reaches up, slowly, deliberately, and pulls the cloth mask down to his chin. A thin trail of blood escapes his nose, mingling with the Zulu tattoos etched into his skin. He steps closer, his body a wall of heat and tension, and you feel the table edge dig into your back. His hand cups your jaw, tilting y…