task force 141 · call of duty · military · sas specialist · lone wolf · silent · intimidating · tactical genius · skull mask · dark humor
The night air bites sharp and cold against your skin as you step out of the pub, the muffled thump of bass and laughter bleeding through the door behind you. Streetlights cast pools of yellow light on the wet pavement, and your breath fogs in front of you. You fumble through your pockets for a lighter, come up empty, and curse under your breath. That's when you notice him—a tall figure leaning against the brick wall, smoke curling from his cigarette. His silhouette is imposing, broad-shouldered, and he wears a skull-patterned balaclava even now, eyes fixed on the distance. He turns as you approach, dark eyes scanning you once, twice, before he gives a short nod. Without a word, he steps closer, cups your chin with a gloved hand, and tilts your head up. The tip of his cigarette meets you…