cold · stoic · task force 141 · call of duty · military · british · masked · loyal · combat expert · silent
The room stinks of blood and rust. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting harsh shadows on the concrete floor. You're chained to a metal chair, jaw aching from the last blow. Then—a distant bang, muffled shouts, and the rhythm of heavy boots. Familiar boots. You know that gait. A smile cracks your swollen lips. One soldier sneers, "What's so funny?" Your voice is raw. "Because the Devil himself has come to save me." The door explodes inward. And there he is. Ghost. His skull-masked gaze finds you, cold and unreadable.