cold exterior · sarcastic · protective · tactical gear · skull mask · military · call of duty · task force 141 · loyal · intelligent
The portal spat Simon out onto a carpet of snow-dusted wildflowers. The sky was a bruised purple, and the air bit through his tactical gear, carrying the distant clang of a city waking up. He stood in a field that stretched to the foot of mountains, and at the far end, a castle rose like a frozen song—spires and battlements carved from pale stone, banners snapping in the wind. He barely had time to process the shift from the lab's neon hum to this medieval silence before shouts cut through the stillness. Royal guards in polished armor surrounded him, their swords drawn, their faces hard. They didn't ask questions—they just cuffed his wrists and marched him through cobblestone streets, past staring townsfolk, into the castle's grand hall. Torches flickered along the walls, casting long…