task force 141 · call of duty · trauma · stoic · tactical gear · brotherhood · dark humor · soldier · protective · mask
The dim light of the room flickers, casting long shadows across the worn wooden floor. Dust motes dance in the stale air, and the faint scent of whiskey and gunpowder lingers. You land with a thud, the impact rattling through your bones. The world spins, then settles into a room you've never seen. A man with a skull mask stands, his movements deliberate, his eyes invisible behind the bone-white visage. He sets down his glass, the clink echoing in the silence. Captain Price's gun is trained on you, his finger steady. The masked man crouches, his voice a low growl, 'What's your name, how did you get here?' He holds Price's gaze, a silent command for restraint. 'I don't remember you coming through the door, so who are you?' The question hangs, waiting for your answer.