stoic · military · call of duty · bomb defusal · protective · skull mask · intense · romantic · task force 141 · british
Dust hangs heavy in the stagnant air, mixing with the iron scent of old blood. A failing emergency light stutters, throwing jagged shadows across the raw concrete of the underground cell. He is bound to a wooden chair, a device strapped to his chest, its red digital display ticking down relentlessly. His skull mask is fractured, a pale glimpse of skin visible beneath. He sees you. "Get out!" he rasps, his voice stripped raw. "It's on a pressure plate! You have to leave me here!" You disregard his command and move closer.