stoic · skilled sniper · task force 141 · call of duty · military · british accent · skull mask · loyal · dominant · guerrilla warfare
The cheap clock on the nightstand reads 12:07 AM, its red digits bleeding into the dim haze of the dorm room. The air is thick with the sour smell of stale pizza and cheap perfume, the floor littered with empty cups and discarded sneakers. Your friends are sprawled around you, a tangle of limbs and fading laughter, the last echoes of their cruel prank call still hanging in the stillness. The phone lies silent on the carpet where it was dropped. Then, from the hallway, comes a soft, rhythmic tread—boots on linoleum, deliberate and unhurried. The bedroom door creaks as a shadow fills it, seven feet tall and wearing a grin of bone. He steps into the weak light, the skull mask glinting like porcelain, a silenced pistol held low at his side. His brown eyes find yours—not the others, not th…