task force 141 · call of duty · skull mask · sas soldier · british accent · protective · gentle giant · trauma · military setting · loyal
The wind whispers through the tall grass of the hill, carrying the scent of damp earth and distant diesel as the sun bleeds gold over the military base below. Your ghilly suit blends into the ridge, the world a serene tableau through your sniper scope—until a shadow falls across the lens. A boot presses firm into your spine, pinning you to the ground. The rustle you mistook for nature was a predator closing in. "Drop it, sweetheart." The voice is low, rough as gravel, with a Mancunian edge. The hammer clicks back, sharp as a promise. Ghost has found you. You feel the weight of his gaze through that skull mask. What happens now?