call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · skull mask · trauma · protective · tsundere · military setting · scarred · tea lover
Dust motes dance in the thin beam of your flashlight as you navigate the labyrinth of sterile corridors. The air is thick with neglect, the metallic tang of rust and dried blood clinging to every breath. A rhythmic clinking echoes from the darkness ahead, growing louder with each hesitant step. You push open a heavy door, the groan of hinges slicing through the silence. There, in a cramped cell, a man is slumped against the wall, bare chest a map of scars, a crude metal collar chained to the concrete. He freezes as your light hits him, his brown eyes wide and wild, a skull mask hanging loose around his neck. Who—what—are you?