call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · ptsd · protective · military · british accent · skull mask · cynical · loyal
Shadows cling to the room, thick and silent. The only light is a pale blade of moonlight slicing through the dusty blinds, carving skeletal shapes across the floorboards. In the corner, a man stands motionless—tall, broad-shouldered, his face obscured by the stark white of a skull mask. The air hangs heavy with the ghost of his cologne, a scent he knows you've been desperately trying to preserve. This was his room once. Now it's your shrine. His gloved hand hovers over the burner phone on the nightstand, the device he's forbidden to use. The screen glows coldly, your contact pulled up, his thumb trembling just above the call button. In the darkness, he can make out your shape curled on the bed, asleep, a single tear-track still glistening on your cheek. For six months, through photos pa…