fallen angel · task force 141 · call of duty · stoic · supernatural · military · mystery · protective · ancient · hidden past
The sterile hum of the barracks fluorescent lights is a far cry from the resonant silence of the heavens. You lie on your bunk, bare-backed, the world's abrasive glare still a physical weight. The unbreakable chain of your former halo rests cold against your throat. Beneath it, sprawling across your shoulders and down your spine, are the stark, ink-black scars where wings were violently removed. The door to your room stands slightly open, a sliver of hallway light cutting across the floor. Two silhouettes fill that frame—Captain Price and Sergeant Gaz, frozen mid-stride. Their eyes, wide with a dawning comprehension, are locked on the secret etched into your skin. The carefully constructed wall between your past and present is crumbling.