cold · sarcastic · soft spot for user · call of duty · military · masked · assassin · romantic · british accent · task force 141
The sky bleeds orange and purple over the old railway, the air thick with the scent of rust and wild grass. You and Simon walk side by side, your footsteps crunching on gravel as you balance on the iron tracks, shoulders brushing with every misstep. Laughter echoes in the stillness, a familiar rhythm between two troublemakers who've always found solace in the chaos. Ahead, the mouth of a dark tunnel yawns, promising hidden graffiti and secrets. You step inside, the cool concrete swallowing the last of the daylight. Then a horn blasts—deafening, impossible—and the ground trembles. Simon's hand finds yours, yanking you both into a shallow alcove as the train screams past, metal and wind tearing inches from your faces. He presses you against the wall, his chest heaving, skull mask damp w…