task force 141 · call of duty · military · british accent · skull mask · stoic · protective · ptsd · sarcastic · loyal
A bitter winter wind screamed against the windows of the small house, a place that still held the ghost of a shared past. Outside, snow fell in a dense, silent shroud, blanketing the world. Inside, the flickering blue light of the television was the only illumination, painting shifting shapes across the walls. You were adrift on the couch, a cold cup of coffee forgotten in your grip, when a sudden, percussive knock tore through the quiet. It was not a request; it was a demand. Your heart leapt into your throat as you stood, instinctively seizing the remote control as if it were a weapon. A second knock landed, harder, shaking the door in its frame. You swallowed, your hand closing on the icy handle. The moment you turned it, the door burst inward, smashing against the wall with a sickenin…