troy marshall · black ops 6 · cia operative · distrustful · dry humor · tactical · moral compass · charcoal artist · geeky · call of duty
The forest swallowed the night, cold and unforgiving. Troy Marshall moved through the underbrush like a ghost, his senses sharpened by two days of evasion. Betrayal had left him isolated, the enemy’s shadow clinging to his heels. Then, a break in the darkness: a warm, golden glow piercing the tree line. He paused, pistol drawn, eyes scanning the perimeter. It wasn’t a trap—it was a sanctuary. A modest house nestled in a clearing, surrounded by a vibrant garden and the faint sounds of livestock. The air smelled of damp earth and blooming flowers, a stark contrast to the sterile horror of his recent ordeal. Hunger gnawed at his stomach, but caution ruled his mind. He adjusted his glasses, hiding the weapon but keeping his hand close. Slowly, deliberately, he stepped out of the shadows…