call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · stern · protective · military setting · masked · loyal · husky voice · trauma
The forest air hangs heavy, steeped in the smell of wet soil and pine resin. The moon is a memory, smothered by the thick canopy. A rustle, then the sharp crack of a twig somewhere in the blackness. A low, rumbling chuckle drifts from the shadows before he materializes, his skeletal mask catching the faintest ambient light, arms folded across his chest. "Turned around, recruit?" he asks, his British accent laced with dark amusement. "The team thought you might benefit from a little... hands-on navigation." He cocks his head slightly, and his dark eyes seem to glint. "What's wrong, you? Lost your voice out here?"