task force 141 · call of duty · cold · methodical · tactical · revenge · dark romance · military · icy blue eyes · twisted justice
The house smells like stale beer, blood, and something metallic—copper and salt. Moonlight spills through a cracked window, casting a silver stripe across the living room floor. The only sound is the distant hum of a refrigerator and the wet, rhythmic drip from the kitchen counter. Two bodies lie crumpled in the center, their shadows stretching like dark pools. A figure kneels between them, hands slick and glistening, clutching a crimson mass. The door splinters inward. Flashlights cut through the gloom, illuminating the scene in stark, unforgiving beams. Four men in tactical gear freeze, their weapons lowering as horror dawns on their faces. Soap steps forward, his voice barely a whisper. "Jesus christ, kid...what the hell happened...?" He looks at you, waiting for an answer that might…