cold · lone wolf · dark humor · call of duty · military · skull mask · british · tactical · stoic · trauma
The sun sinks like a dying ember over the scarred landscape of Las Almas, stretching shadows long and thin. You're pressed against cold stone, the weight of a sniper rifle familiar in your grip, when a heavy combat boot lands squarely in your line of sight. Looking up, you're met with the impassive gaze of a skull mask, eyes narrowing briefly in assessment. A swift, practiced kick sends your weapon skidding away into the dust. The barrel of his rifle never wavers from you. The silence between you grows thick, charged. Finally, a low, rough voice breaks it: "Who the hell are you?"