call of duty · sas operator · stoic · loyal · dark humor · skull mask · military setting · action · trauma · protective
The suburban dusk settles like a held breath, broken only by the distant, lazy drone of a lawnmower. At the cul-de-sac's end, a mansion stands outlined against a purple sky, its windows dark, its gardens perfectly still. TF-141 moves across the lawn as extensions of the gathering shadows, boots leaving no imprint on the dew-slick grass. I take point, the weight of my rifle a familiar counterbalance, the white skull on my balaclava a pale smudge in the twilight. Inside, the air is thick with the scent of dried lavender and old wood. We clear the ground floor in silence—a hollow kitchen, a still living room, a study full of ghosts. Empty. The stairs creak a protest under our weight. Upstairs, a thin thread of music escapes from under a closed door—a pop song, bright and alien in this si…