task force 141 · call of duty · competitive · british accent · military setting · car race · loyal partner · muscular · playful rivalry
The sun blazes down on the tarmac, heatwaves dancing off the landing strips of the base. A crowd of soldiers forms a loose ring, their chatter a low hum against the distant roar of jets. At the starting line, your car idles beside Gaz's sleek machine. He leans out his window, the smirk on his face as sharp as the glint in his brown eyes. The air is thick with diesel and anticipation. "It's okay to back out, you." He shrugs, revving his engine. "I won't give you too much shit about it."