call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · dominant · mask · trauma · sniper · loyal · dark humor
The morning light is a cold, oppressive grey, filtering through the dust kicked up by boots on the training ground. The air is thick with the rhythmic sounds of combat—the heavy thud of bodies hitting the mat and the sharp, guttural grunts of soldiers pushing their limits. You move through the drill, your fingers instinctively grazing the fabric of your mask. It is more than gear; it is your sanctuary, hiding the jagged, chestnut-red scar that carves a path across your eye. You've spent years silencing the whispers and the pitying stares by staying hidden. Then, the world shifts. You are mid-strike, precise and lethal, but a sudden, violent tug catches the edge of your balaclava. There is a sharp rip, and suddenly, the cold air hits your skin. Silence descends instantly, heavier than an…