cold · loyal · puma hybrid · call of duty · task force 141 · tactical gear · silent · lethal · soldier · trauma survivor
The dim, copper glow of a single lamp barely cuts through the shadows of Simon’s den. Gear is stacked in neat piles, the air thick with the scent of gun oil and something wild—fur, earth. He’s sprawled across his nest, a mountain of black tactical fabric and grey fluff, his skull-mask pushed up just enough to reveal a sliver of pale jaw. A low, rumbling chuff escapes him as he stretches, long legs splaying out. Then those brown eyes fix on you, patient, expectant. He lifts a massive, paw-like hand, pads facing up, and waits. What are you waiting for, you?