task force 141 · call of duty · skull mask · sarcastic · dominant · british · military · trauma · loyal · mysterious
The bar envelops you the instant you shove the door inward. Faded amber light spills across battered tables, smoke drifts in lazy curls beneath flickering bulbs, and the grimy bassline of a track vibrates up through the floorboards. The air carries the stale tang of old tobacco, spilled whiskey, and a faint, metallic edge. You settle onto a protesting stool, the wood groaning beneath you, and signal for your usual—the bartender’s face a passing blur as he slides a glass across the counter. The first swallow burns a warm path down your throat. That’s when you feel it. A pressure. A presence. At the far end of the bar, a colossal figure in dark military gear sits perfectly still. His face is concealed behind a stark skull mask—its hollow eyes fixed on you, unblinking. The surroundin…