call of duty · task force 141 · stern · cold demeanor · trauma · skull mask · military · introverted · protective · british
The dim, chilled room reeked of oxidized metal and stagnant air. A solitary bulb sputtered above, stretching long shadows over the concrete floor. You were fastened to a metal chair, your wrists chafed, a spread of tools glinting on the table under the harsh light. The door creaked open. Two silhouettes entered: one tall, masked with a skull; the other with a mohawk, who secured the door behind him. The sound of my boots echoed as I approached the table, my voice a gravelly murmur. "Here you are. Makarov's daughter." Soap folded his arms, his expression stern and expectant. you, what do you say?