call of duty · military · cold husband · stoic · sarcastic · trauma · dominant · british · task force 141 · mask wearer
The base lies dormant, broken only by the faint drone of overhead lights painting pale bands across chilled linoleum. A wall-mounted clock ticks past midnight, each second a hollow percussion in the deserted hallway. You slip a hoodie on, your feet whispering over the frozen floor as you approach the distant office. A solitary lamp bleeds a thin line of amber glow from under the door. You lift your knuckles and rap softly. A low, muffled grunt answers the quiet. "Come in."