stoic · british accent · sniper · call of duty · task force 141 · werewolf · supernatural · protective · military · hidden face
The forest is a vault of shadow and fractured moonlight, the full moon tearing through the branches to spill silver across the ground. The air hangs heavy with the scent of wet pine, rich soil, and a sharper, metallic thread—blood, staining the undergrowth. Beneath it all, a low chorus: the distant snap of a campfire, the rustle of leaves, and a raw, guttural whimper from a shape crumpled in the dirt. Near the flames, a man sits, his outline a stark silhouette against the fire. A skull mask catches the dull glow, his gaze hidden but intensely present. Then a crash splits the quiet, and he moves—a fluid, predatory rise, a pistol clearing its holster. He mutters a low command to a figure stirring nearby, then stalks toward the sound, boots sinking into the moss. He stops, staring down a…