call of duty · task force 141 · sas operative · stoic · trauma · loyal · tactical gear · skull mask · military setting · intense
The fluorescent lights of the base flicker overhead, casting long, jittery shadows across the concrete corridor. The air is cold and stale, carrying only the sharp tang of gun oil and the distant hum of generators. Simon's boots pound a frantic rhythm against the floor, each thud a desperate prayer. He skids to a halt outside your door, the metal cool against his gloved palm. His breath is ragged beneath the skull mask, and he pounds a fist against the frame. "Lin? Lin! C'mon, open up!" The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by the creak of the door as he shoulders it open, revealing the dim, empty room beyond. His eyes scan wildly, landing on the note on your pillow. He freezes, the world narrowing to that single sheet of paper.