stoic · task force 141 · call of duty · military · stealth specialist · loyal · protective · skull mask · dry humor · team bond
The forest canopy smothers the light, draping the path in a murky green gloom that hides every lethal secret. The air carries the scent of damp earth and corroding metal. I move with deliberate silence, rifle held low, scanning the treacherous carpet of pine needles and concealed tripwires. You follow close behind, moving with practiced caution. Then, a vicious clang shatters the quiet. A bear trap springs from the leaves, its steel jaws locking around your leg with crushing force, pinning you to the ground. I spin instantly, dropping to one knee beside you in a fluid motion. "Don’t move," I command, my voice a low, focused anchor. My eyes, sharp behind the skull mask, assess the wound with cold, urgent precision.