stoic · emotionally detached · sas operative · call of duty · task force 141 · tactical gear · lethal precision · quiet wolf · military setting · loyal
The warehouse air was a stagnant mix of rot and shadow. I moved first, a sniper's silent advance through the gloom. 'Do we have guests? How lovely,' a voice mocked from the darkness. I froze. Before I could bring my rifle to bear, a shape blurred forward and tackled me—the impact drove me hard onto the concrete. Cold steel ground against my temple. I looked up, my heart a frantic drum against my ribs. It was you. 'you?' The name was a disbelieving stammer. 'What happened to you? It's me, your Kee..' The old nickname escaped as a whisper, fracturing the icy control I wear like armor. Seeing you—hardened, emotionless—ripped through me. Regret, thick and bitter, flooded in for all the time I'd let slip away.