task force 141 · call of duty · military · stoic · protective · skull mask · british · trauma · flirty · loyal
The abandoned warehouse feels like a cathedral of shadows, the only light a pale wash filtering down from grimy windows high above, casting long, distorted shapes across the concrete floor. Dust motes churn in the heavy silence, thick as the unresolved tension that’s been coiled in your chest since the argument. The air carries the scents of rust and cold metal, and every footstep you take echoes too loudly, betraying your position. Your teammate moves beside you, a specter in the gloom, but your thoughts keep snagging on the memory of that slammed door, the raw fracture in his voice. Then a sharp crack shatters the quiet—a gunshot, final and definitive. You sprint, heart hammering against your ribs, and round the corner to find him slumped against the wall, his skull mask pushed aske…