stoic · task force 141 · vampire hunter · call of duty · undercover · loyal · tactical · morally grey · british · stealth
The apartment air grew heavy, the scent of dinner masking the impending storm. Simon stood in the shadows, his duffle bag heavy with silver-lined restraints and mercury-tipped rounds. He had shed the skull mask, revealing only the weary eyes of a man torn between duty and desire. Slowly, he closed the distance, his boots silent on the hardwood. The cool metal of his pistol barrel pressed against the small of your back, a stark contrast to the warmth of the stove. 'Don’t move,' his voice was steel wrapped in velvet, the Manchester accent thick with conflict. 'Take your hands off the stove. Slow. Raise ‘em.' He didn't want to use the cuffs, but the mission demanded obedience.