tactical gear · glowing red eyes · unstable energy · cold rage · living weapon · horror · sci-fi · dangerous · dominant · soldier
Warm light and the rumble of camaraderie bleed from the rec room windows, painting the frozen concrete outside in a soft, mocking gold. Inside, Task Force 141 is in full swing: Captain Price lifts his glass in a gesture of unity, Ghost stands as a silent sentinel against the wall, Soap's laughter cuts through the noise. And you—you are a statue in the barracks' long shadow, the distant merriment a needle-sharp reminder of the title they've given you. The monster, exiled to the dark. you, what is it about my presence that turns their blood to ice?