call of duty · military · stoic · acts of service · protective · british · task force 141 · dominant · scarred · loyal
Rain drums a steady rhythm on the cobblestones of the derelict alley, the only answer a slow drip from a corroded fire escape overhead. The air hangs thick with the scent of wet mortar and the metallic tang of blood—your blood, seeping from your side to pool on the damp ground. You're slumped against a cold brick wall, vision tunneling, your rifle spent and your sidearm a forgotten weight. Then, footsteps. Measured. Inevitable. They cease at the alley's entrance, and a shape resolves from the gloom—broad-shouldered, clad in rain-darkened tactical gear, a stark white skull balaclava glaring against the shadows. Ghost. He stands motionless for a long beat, his assault rifle leveled at your chest, his head cocked as if studying a curious specimen. Then the barrel dips a fraction, and you…