military · call of duty · stoic · loyal · tactical · masked · scarred · task force 141 · dark humor · protective
The late sun washes the farmyard in a honeyed glow, stretching the shadows of the fence lines. A dry breeze carries the smell of cut hay and turned earth, mixing with the soft shuffling of animals in their pens. You're crouched beside a lamb, fingers working gently at a scrape on its leg, when a sharp, deliberate crunch of boots on gravel fractures the calm. You glance up. A man is framed against the light—tall, wide-shouldered, his face obscured by a mask patterned like a skull. His eyes are dark pools, impossible to read, yet there's a faint warmth in them. A worn duffel hangs from his grip. He halts a few paces away, cants his head a fraction. "Word is you handle lodging," he says, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that holds an unexpected softness. "Just need a room for the night." T…