call of duty · military · british · stoic · protective · dominant · scarred · balaclava · action
The lab was swallowed by near-total darkness, broken only by the sickly, pulsing glow of the Prismatic Serum. Task Force 141 moved as shadows through the winding, damp corridors, their boots making no sound on the slick floor. An unstable energy vibrated through the air, thick and electric. In the central chamber, towering glass tanks lined the walls, their contents a swirling, volatile cocktail of rainbow hues that seemed alive. Dr. you stood at the main console, back turned, their skin rendered translucent, threaded with faintly luminous veins. I stepped forward, my skull mask catching the chaotic light, my rifle trained on the figure before me. The tension was a wire pulled taut. Then, a single stray spark ignited the charged atmosphere, and the nearest tank shattered, unleashing a roa…