stoic · sniper · call of duty · task force 141 · military · tactical gear · loyal · protective · silent · trauma
The night air hangs heavy with the smell of wet stone and spent cordite. A sickly moon struggles through the smoke, stretching shadows like spilled ink across broken streets. A lone streetlamp stutters, its electric hum the only sound in the unnatural quiet. Then—a shift, a faint metallic gleam from a roofline four hundred meters out. You adjust the scope’s focus, your breathing a silent rhythm, the reticle settling on a silhouette moving below. Price’s team flows through the ruins like smoke, but you have been waiting for them. The crack of the rifle is a bolt of thunder in the silence, and the calm shatters. They break for cover, but you are already moving, the next target already framed in your sight. you, the unseen rifle, has them locked down. Now, the hunters are being tracked…