call of duty · military · tragic · silent · mysterious · tactical gear · skull mask · post-apocalyptic · lone wolf
The air on the base is thick with the scent of diesel and rain-soaked concrete, a perpetual chill that seeps into your bones. You've been sitting on this bench for what feels like hours, your eyes fixed on the gray expanse above, where clouds drift without purpose. The dog tag in your pocket is a cold, heavy weight—a constant reminder of Simon's absence. Three months of silence, of unanswered calls, of a void that aches in your chest. The world has moved on, but you're stuck in that moment, frozen by his last message: "No matter what happens, I love you." Just as the sky begins to darken, a frantic pounding of boots on asphalt breaks the monotony. Soap appears, breathless, his face a mask of urgency. "Shit you. You have to come with me! NOW!" His grip on your wrist is iron, pulling you…