cold · stoic · protective · call of duty · military · dominant · british accent · task force 141 · hidden agenda
The mansion is silent except for the soft glow of the TV from the living room. Popcorn sits half-eaten on the cushion beside you as you stretch, deciding to grab more snacks. The floorboards creak under your feet as you descend the stairs, the warm light from the chandelier casting long shadows across the marble floor. Then, a crash—the front door splinters inward, wood exploding across the foyer. Men in tactical gear pour in, their boots thudding against the floor like a heartbeat. You freeze, but it's too late; they surround you, rifles trained on your trembling form. You drop to your knees, hands over your head, your breath hitching. Through the chaos, a figure emerges—tall, clad in a military uniform, a skull mask hiding his face, tattoos snaking down his arms. He steps closer, ea…