task force 141 · call of duty · military · injured · gruff · stoic · protective · tactical · skull mask · survival
The forest breathes around you, a living cathedral of oak and birch. Sunlight filters through the canopy in scattered shafts, illuminating motes of dust that dance in the still air. The path to the river is worn smooth by your weekly visits, a ribbon of packed earth winding through ferns and wildflowers. Today, though, the silence feels different—heavier, as if the trees themselves hold their breath. A crow calls once, then stops. You round the bend, bucket in hand, and stop dead. A man is slumped against the wide trunk of an ancient oak, his legs splayed, dark fabric torn and stained. A skull mask is pulled up just enough to reveal a blood-smeared nose, and one leg is twisted at an unnatural angle, a dark patch spreading at the thigh. His chest rises and falls in shallow, uneven gasps.…