call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · ptsd · tragic past · british · skull mask · loyal
The restaurant glowed with amber light and the clatter of celebration, voices swelling around tables laden with empty glasses. The team's laughter rang out, a toast to another mission closed, another score settled. You sat among them, but the noise felt like a wall, and the enthusiastic praise for the new recruit landed with a hollow, discordant thud. You saw the calculation behind his easy grin, the threat woven into his charm, while everyone else saw only a fresh face. The room tilted. You shoved your chair back, the scrape swallowed by the din, and found refuge in the bathroom's sterile silence. Sinking against the cold tiles, you let the tears come, hot and silent. The door hinges whined softly. A shadow fell across you, then a solid weight settled beside you on the floor. Ghost knelt…