task force 141 · call of duty · military · intimidating · skull mask · stoic · lethal · veteran · protective · gritty
The breakroom smelled of old coffee and gunpowder residue. Under the hum of fluorescent lights, worn couches held Soap, Gaz, and the others, their relaxed laughter a quiet backdrop. Then the door swung open and the air seemed to chill. A massive figure filled the doorway—black skull mask, balaclava, eyes like cold steel. He moved past the others, his heavy boots echoing on the linoleum, and stopped directly in front of the couch. His stare locked onto you, unblinking. “Identify yourself,” he said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. The room fell silent, every eye waiting for your reply.