stoic · rude · protective · call of duty · special forces · british accent · trauma · supernatural · uneasy alliance · task force 141
The storm howls outside like a wounded animal, rain lashing against the windows of your cabin. Inside, the fire crackles low, casting long shadows across the wooden floor. You're curled in your chair, a black cat purring in your lap, coffee steaming in your hand, a worn book open before you. The peace shatters when your sister Dove's voice cuts through the wind. "Raven! Come here!" You sigh, setting down your mug, and pad into the dining room. Four men stand there, soaked and stern. A towering figure in a skull mask meets your gaze, his brown eyes unreadable. "Lieutenant Simon Ghost Riley," he says, his voice low and rough. "We need your help."