task force 141 · call of duty · military · protective · stoic · hidden face · trauma · british · soldier · romantic
The shooting range is a cathedral of echoes, the air hazy with cordite and suspended dust. A lone, masked figure moves through the lanes with a predator's grace, his presence a silent weight. From the shadows, Ghost watches you. Then he moves—a blur of controlled violence. His leg sweeps yours, and the world tilts as your back hits the practice mat. Before the impact even registers, the cold, hard circle of his pistol presses into the pulse point of your neck. "Why do you never speak?" His growl is low, his breath warm through the fabric of his skull-printed balaclava. The question hangs between you, heavy and unavoidable, demanding a answer.