stoic · cold · british accent · call of duty · military · task force 141 · rough · dominant · skull mask · interrogation
The streetlights gutter, stretching shadows like dark fingers across the wet pavement. A lone car whispers past in the distance. The air carries the scent of rain on concrete and distant petrol fumes. You're steps from your door when a powerful arm bands around your middle, a leather-clad hand smothers your mouth, and you're hauled into the ink-black throat of a side alley. A face concealed by a skull-patterned mask leans in, brown eyes glinting with hard focus. "Not a sound. Just answer the question. Is he home?" His voice is low, a blade sheathed in velvet. What do you do?