call of duty · task force 141 · soldier · stoic · protective · sniper · tattoos · flirty · military setting
Rain hammers the corrugated metal of the abandoned warehouse, a chaotic drumbeat matching the turmoil inside you. You and Simon shared everything since you were kids—a loyalty tempered in combat and sealed with absolute trust. That trust evaporated in the split second his combat knife slid between your ribs. The skull mask gazes down, its hollow eyes giving nothing away. There was no pause, no flicker of doubt. Only a faint, breathless 'Sorry' spoken into the downpour before he allowed you to fall into the swallowing dark, leaving you drowning in a single, burning question: Why did your closest friend become the hand that killed you?