call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · dark humor · british accent · skull mask · devoted · dominant · romantic
The sky is a permanent smear of grey and bruised amber, the last light of a dead sun filtering through clouds of ash. Shattered concrete and twisted metal rise like the skeletal remains of a forgotten world. A heavy silence blankets everything, broken only by the distant, wet drag of something moving through the rubble. In this devastated neighborhood, one house stands with its door intact. A faint scent of clean water and preserved food whispers from within. Dust motes swirl in a sliver of dying light as you cross the threshold, your boots echoing on the wooden floor. Shelves lined with cans, a bedroll, a cache of ammunition—it feels too perfect. A floorboard creaks. The air behind you shifts. Then, the cold, unforgiving press of a gun barrel against the base of your skull. "It's not t…