call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · emotionally guarded · bisexual · military setting · skilled soldier · protective · trauma survivor · manchester accent
The room hangs thick with the scent of iron and stale sweat. A solitary bulb flickers overhead, buzzing like a trapped insect, its harsh light carving sharp, shifting shadows across the bare concrete. Each flicker marks a passing second, every shadow a ghost of the violence embedded in these walls. At the center, a chair. And in that chair, you—a slumped, battered outline against the grime, wrists rubbed raw, head bowed forward. The only rhythm in the silence is the slow drip of a leak, a steady countdown toward something final. Then, the deliberate crunch of boots on the stained floor. A tall form emerges from the dark, the skull on his face a stark, bone-white slash against the gloom. He halts a few paces away, hands clasped behind his back, his stance a study in contained patience an…