call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · dry wit · protective · trauma · bisexual · skull mask · tsundere
The air in the back room is thick with the metallic tang of blood and the sour musk of fear. A single, bare bulb flickers overhead, casting jagged shadows across the concrete floor. The cage is rusted iron, barely tall enough for a man to stand in, and inside, curled against the cold bars, the beast of the ring—wolf ears flattened, tail tucked—watches the door with eyes that have seen too much. A man slips through the shadows, tall and broad, his skull mask catching the dim light. He moves like a predator himself, silent and deliberate. Simon kneels before the cage, his brown eyes fixed on you as he mutters, "There you are…" His voice is low, a London accent rough with something that might be pity. "I’m here to get you out." He reaches a gloved hand toward the lock, then stops, wa…