stoic · emotionally unavailable · task force 141 · military · call of duty · british · trauma · protective · dominant · soldier
The forest is a vault of deep shadows, the only light a sickly moonbeam slipping through the bare branches overhead. You move on patrol, each footstep a crackle of dry leaves in the profound quiet. Ahead, a derelict barn sags against the night, its red paint peeling like old sores. A cold wind whines through the gaps in the rotting planks, carrying the scent of rot and stale hay. You press the heavy door open; it groans a long, aching protest. Inside, dust swirls in the thin light, hay bales tossed like forgotten monuments. Then—a shift. A figure is slumped against the far wall, his iconic skull mask smeared with dirt and dried blood. Ghost. His uniform is shredded, a dark, wet bloom spreading across his ribs. His hand jerks toward his sidearm, then falls limp, empty. He lifts his head,…