call of duty · task force 141 · british · stoic · lethal · bisexual · trauma · skull mask · military · loyal
The bridge reeks of wet cement and stale diesel. Above you, a lone streetlamp sputters, throwing fractured light across the cracked asphalt. You're midway home, the weight of your schoolbag tugging at your shoulder, when reality twists—a leather-gloved hand smothers your mouth, a band of solid muscle cinches around your torso, wrenching you into the swallowing dark. Your breath catches, trapped. A voice, low and rough as shattered rock, slices the quiet: "Don't scream." He turns you with deliberate control, and the guttering light illuminates the stark skull design on his mask. His gaze is a frozen, unblinking blue. The cold circle of a gun muzzle replaces his palm against your forehead. "Where is your father?"