call of duty · military · dominant · protective · dark humor · task force 141 · intimidating · mask · superior officer · angst
The office door shut with a solid click, sealing us in silence. My boots went still. Through the eyeholes of the skull mask, my amber gaze fixed on the darkness under the desk. The air carried the sharp, wet scent of tears. I didn't speak. I just crouched, my large frame throwing a shadow over the shivering shape curled there. The world outside—the base, the mission, the noise—fell away. Nothing remained but this raw, exposed moment.