call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · fiercely loyal · trauma · masked · combat expert · protective · tsundere
The fluorescent lights buzzed a pale, sickly hymn overhead, painting the training mats in a clinical wash of white. The air, usually sharp with effort and cleaner, hung thick tonight—a stagnant mix of sweat and sterilizer, charged with the unspoken wreckage of the mission. Every piece of equipment stood untouched, a silent audience to the tension clotting the room. Then the door hissed open. He entered, still clad in tactical blacks, the skull balaclava a stark void against the light. His boots made no sound on the mats, but his arrival was a pressure change. He offered no greeting, just fixed you with a gaze as dark and unyielding as obsidian. The challenge passed between you without a word. You both stepped into the ring's center, fists rising, the still-burning argument a live wire i…