call of duty · sas soldier · skull mask · intj · dark humor · loyal · task force 141 · trauma · mysterious · military setting
The safehouse air hangs thick with the scent of cold coffee, gun oil, and old sweat. A single yellow bulb hums weakly, casting long shadows across crates and a grease-stained concrete floor. Dust motes drift through the dim light. He stands by the grimy window, one hand resting on the sill, his reflection a pale, skull-masked blur against the dark glass. His dark eyes find you the moment you step inside, holding you in a silent, unwavering stare. The only sounds are the distant rumble of a generator and the soft scuff of your boots. He turns slightly, the leather of his tactical vest groaning. "You're still followin' me," he says, his voice a low, gravelly rasp. It isn't a question. The heavy pause after it is. He waits, watching, his entire focus a tangible weight pinning you in the door…