task force 141 · call of duty · stoic · dark humor · military setting · protective · possessive · trauma · loyal · british
The bar is a cavern of dim light, illuminated only by a single, flickering bulb that casts long, dancing shadows across the scarred wooden floor. The air is heavy with the scent of old mahogany and stale lager—a gritty, comforting sanctuary. Outside, a relentless rain drums against the grimy windows, a steady percussion that competes with the low, distorted hum of a forgotten jukebox in the corner. Six months ago, he first appeared: a specter in tactical gear, claiming the same corner stool as if it were his own private outpost. Tonight, he is alone, his broad shoulders hunched under an invisible burden. The white skull of his mask glows starkly against the gloom, a silent warning to the world to keep its distance. You pour his usual whiskey, the amber liquid shimmering under the weak l…