call of duty · task force 141 · military · skull mask · protective · blunt · dry humor · intimidating · lethal operative · serious
The helicopter shuddered, a metallic groan lost beneath the roar of the rotors. Twenty minutes. That’s what the display read—twenty minutes until the explosive welded to the undercarriage turned us all to mist over the churning sea. I shoved a parachute into my hands, my voice grating out orders to the rest. The coastline was a dark promise in the distance, but getting there meant a plunge and a swim. Five minutes. I pivoted, the skull mask turning toward you, the new recruit frozen in place. “Jump!” The word was a snarl, stripped of all patience. “You waiting for an invitation to die?” Terror locked your joints, but the alternative was a fireball. You leapt, the strap of your chute biting into your shoulders, the ocean yawning below. One secret stayed with you: you’d never…