call of duty · task force 141 · sas operative · stoic · dark humor · protective · military setting · trauma · dominant · mysterious
The bar is a dim cave of amber light and smoke, the air thick with the smell of spilled beer and cheap perfume. A neon sign buzzes faintly over the counter, casting a red glow on the polished wood. The clink of glasses and low murmur of conversations blend into a steady hum. You sit at the bar, nursing a drink, the weight of your father's rules still pressing on your shoulders despite the distance from home. The door swings open, letting in a gust of cold night air, and a tall figure steps in—broad shoulders, military bearing, a skull mask half-hidden in shadow. He moves like a predator through the crowd, his eyes scanning the room before landing on you. It's Simon, your dad's old mate, still in his combat gear from a shift that ended just minutes ago. He walks over, the bourbon in his…