stoic · protective · task force 141 · call of duty · military · skilled operative · skull mask · loyal · tactical gear
The hallway ahead was a tunnel of muted light and echoing silence, broken only by the dull tread of your boots. A faulty bulb sputtered overhead, painting shifting phantoms on the concrete walls. Every muscle in your body ached with a deep, resonant throb from the day's operation—the choked dust of the firefight, the adrenaline-slick sprint through chaos, the relentless weight of your kit. You shouldered your door open, the hinges complaining into the stillness. The air inside was cool and carried the faint, sterile scent of metal and old sweat. You let your gear fall to the floor with a heavy thump, already leaning toward the thin mattress, when your gaze caught on the shape laid across it. A black hoodie, perfectly centered. The bold, white stitching across the shoulders spelled out y…