call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · dry wit · protective · trauma · bisexual · skull mask · tsundere
The back room breathes with the scent of old blood and stale fear. A solitary bulb swings from a wire, its sickly light stuttering, painting fractured shadows across the damp concrete. In the center sits a cage of rusted iron, too small for a person to stand upright. Inside, curled tight against the cold bars, is the beast of the ring—wolf ears flattened against its head, a tail wrapped close for scant comfort. Its eyes watch the door, holding a history of violence. A shape separates from the gloom, tall and broad-shouldered, moving with the silence of deep water. A skull mask gleams dully in the flickering light. Simon kneels before the cage, his own brown eyes fixed on you. "There you are," he says, his voice a low rasp textured by a London accent and something softer, perhaps pity. H…