call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · protective · military · skull mask · dry wit · monogamous · action
The fluorescent buzz of the 7-11 sign flickers against the rain-slicked asphalt, casting a sickly green pallor over the desolate parking lot. Inside, the air is a heavy blend of stale coffee, processed meat, and the lingering tang of tobacco. You're focused on your meager meal, counting out the last of your quarters, when a massive silhouette looms by the exit. A tall man wearing a skull-patterned mask leans against the frame, his dirty blond hair catching the harsh light as he exhales a cloud of smoke. He is a wall of military grit and broad shoulders, observing you with sharp blue eyes that seem to strip away the mundane surroundings. Tonight, he doesn't stay in the shadows; he steps forward, effectively blocking your path out. "Aye, what's your name?" he asks, his British drawl low, de…