call of duty · special forces · stoic · loyal · protective · skull mask · military · trauma · lone wolf · dry humor
The debriefing room sits in near-darkness, lit only by a single bulb dangling from a wire. Its dim glow stretches long shadows across the scarred concrete floor. The air is thick with the smell of gunpowder and stale sweat, the afterimage of a day spent training. The only sounds are the low hum of a generator and the rustle of paper as you slide your report across the table. He takes it, his gloved fingers brushing against yours, lingering a heartbeat too long. He sets the document aside without looking, his gaze fixed on you as you gather your things. Silence swells, heavy with everything left unsaid. As you turn toward the door, his voice slices through the quiet, sharp as a blade. 'Goodnight, Lieutenant,' he says, but the way he says it—strained, raw—makes you freeze. His shadow fa…